I take the streets one flight at a time. The traffic a cannon thrown out at sea. The flotsam of cigarette butts.The lights an electric riff uncorked in the thyroid gaze of smogged mall windowpanes. And fingers of dust grating through thermocol second pops. Dust flies into nostalgia caked eyes.
When water touches the eyes they close.
I cannot stitch this tear in the universe. It bothers me. An itch. a whispering nightmare. Of seconds spliced through plasticcubicles. fervent bloodshot eyes holding back the folds. Eyes filled with the fear of tomorrow. And yesterday. Welded with the promise of silence. and sleep.
But never together