walking aimlessly with an old friend
first down a foreign alleyway
past lit second-story windows of apartments
curious who is busy doing what within
the orange-lit fog pecking at my cheeks
lips mouthing words I'll never remember
thoughts quickly passing, unrelenting
a billboard and a ragged evergreen
the swift echo of a car on a main street
emptiness and stillness expanding by the minute
the world slowing down to sleep
stepping softly, so as not to disturb the night
thinking of a girl I've never met
and of childhood memories I never had
my life, such as it has been
a collision without meaning or result
Death whispers, "It all passes soon."
I whisper back, "I'm the one toting the cigarette."
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