Broad Daylight

10th March 2009

A dark crevice, lit dimly.
Slight regret,
     the familiar sunlight
     welcoming me from afar.
A rush of green and brown,
     the taste;
     chicken.
A familiarity of bricks in the
     most sordid, bleak
     little town.
Red lights flash before the swirling opposite direction
     of the unhalting
     machine.
The floor at eye level, the yellow
     stripe and white seemingly
     picket fence.
A barrier to a little more than
     just a flight of stairs.
Ferries.
The destination of someone much
     ignorant to those around.
Glasses; yes you unfamiliar equation,
     intelligence I’d think not.
Shifting of one half of two people
     a separation, but a closeness.
I listen to the music, tasting the
     flavour on my lips.
A book; a novel, reminiscent of a movie that I
     once saw, not quite similar but
     a fleeting reminder of a moment
     that drew a tear from the corner of my eye.
The dark crevice, like the echo of snow
     and the
     deep blue water
     in an autumn haunting.
Up on this hill.
At 6 past 12.
I keep travelling backwards,
     the scenery
     running
     away from me.
Amongst the rumble,
     where I’m going
     across the metal lines
     that start my late day in
     perspective.
One in blue much like the
     men that line the streets
     with their skateboards.
I too,
     am listening.
To the music, and the silence.

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