Greasy rainbow streaked puddles evaporates into an acrid myst permeating my soul with the memory of summers in the street. Hot and hungry for something that never existed I stalk the corners and back alley’s. Buildings replace trees in a twisted jungle of brick and mortar that threatens to set my feet in dysfunction. So I follow the one rule of survival I know will keep me alive, keep movin!!
It’s a path I need; a winding dirt trail littered with last season’s decay. The smell of nature on my mind I can relax and wander through a living existence where the sound of trees gently blowing in the summer breeze replaces plastic wind carrying exhaust and chatter around every corner.
The sound of the fan in my window makes the sirens a staccato symphony behind horns blowing impatience and people yelling the alcohol out of their system. Back and forth I listen to the dreams of the fan and the nightmares of the streets.
I long for the cicadas singing the owl into a stupor. The sound of water rushing through my window setting my dreams adrift. The woods are like people, each individual swaying to the breeze in their own rhythm and beauty as one. The macro concept of together gives us the micro space to tower above the landscape and scream I Am over the creaking forests complaints.
I awaken to the sound of mist rising in plumes from manhole covers. Street lights fade into the sunset I never see past the shadows of the industrious pursuit of upward mobility. Distracted I lay in bed with the echo of my dreams calling me back to the myst that covers the early morning lake awaiting the suns rays. Prisms dissipate one tiny rainbow at a time silently raising the day. Tomorrow is here and I breathe again with the elements of time on my side.