Dark stars
August 14, 2016 - 202 words
But those deals are made and sealed in the dark of the slick wet alleys. We've all passed them in the haze, lit from a sourceless lamp when we wander home stoned and confused, swimming in the electronic blue mist: you're not quite home yet, sonny, let's get moving. Can't focus, can't string two seconds together. She let you in with more warmth and love than you deserve but what's this? You're lost. Hungry. Don't look around. We can read that body language like a book. Keep your hat on nice and snug. You wear that hat like you wear your anxiety: comfortably and out in the open. Remember that feeling when you lose your keys? How are you getting home? Suddenly the urban corridors have a different character tonight, don't they, some surreal presence clangs a bell in your psyche where the wisdom of your childhood fear of the dark lies buried. The quiet city language is thriving, little man! Be careful now. You're not quite home yet, sonny, let's keep moving. These cold black streets are here for someone else and you've lost your keys. The stars are a mess, they cannot guide you home tonight. Where are your keys??????????