These are the thoughts of an urban dreamer inside a city of reveries, revelations and random nightmares. lmr
Night massages a cool brisk wind
upon my surface skin, sends goose-
bumps & fine hairs trembling like
reed-thin junkies in the breeze.
And these vibrations from my i-pod
make my head bob in unison with
with this flickering city. I can almost
forget I'm one more denizen starving
for food, for warmth, for kindness,
for attention; forget I'm just another
artist in this mecca full of artisans;
forget my shadow is puny & it casts
no particular magnificence, nor is it
towering above the bobbing populace.
I am just another dude inside this
city, my head packed with sounds
of traffic & solitude & arias from
A Tribe Called Quest.
I am as innocuous as any Macy's
window display, as plain as a piece
gray concrete... as memorable as a
face reflected upon the glass of a
speeding limousine. I am invisible,
but for the smoke rings I blow from
the cold stagnant air boa constricting
around me.... as night massages
a cool brisk wind upon my skin
to send goosebumps & fine hairs
shivering... & shimmering like stars.
Maybe we're all the stuff of dust & far
away planets... Maybe we are the sum
of our selfishly separate constellations.
Maybe we are as tremulous as the
illusive sheen of our dreams, some-
where in the hazy distance, just out of
copyright © 2016 by L.M. Ross
Photo by Sebastien Brunet
There's more where that came from!