I like these nights they are plain and simple devoid of emotion or passion, just dark inky black nights, dry as the grey gravel under my feet. The sky is still; looking up at it, is like staring in to oblivion. I walk my way to my personal dealer of death he has got accustomed to my nocturnal walks and readily fishes out the slender crisp chalk white solider of demise.
So it is I walk into deserted streets, my eyes darting from lamppost to lamppost as my shadow ebbs and flows at my feet. I find myself on the bridge over a creek. Let me make myself clear this once maybe was a creek now it’s a gutter chocked with sludge, tonight however it’s beautiful, in a sad way. I know not by whose will, it has swelled up with black liquid, creating a near perfect mirror, of my near imperfect world. I see myself looking back at me from the depth below, for a moment or two I slip out of my body and wonder which of the two is really me, just for a moment or two. I look beyond myself in the dark mirror, somehow that filth has unlocked some beauty of this world the more I search its depths the more I see and the reflection is better, the colours are fuller and the contrast sharper. I spy with my little eye a bright gold rectangle switch on in the mire, I see her and it seems like I know her, yet her name escapes my mind, like the friend you had in 2nd grade the one who drew smiley faces on your eraser and thru the years you lost all contact and her name got swallowed up by the clutter in your brain, yet you remember those smiley faces. She’s standing there, alone; a whisper of wind ruffles her hair, i ponder over the irony of such beauty captured by the filth. I wonder if she has seen me, I wonder how I might appear to her curious eyes, a lone dark stranger who strangely looks familiar, bent at the barricade of the bridge blowing swirls of smoke into the night…I watch her the waters add the slightest bit of mystery to her from, it has a strange allure and half my mind is convinced that I should leap off to be with her. I wonder what she might be thinking, is she curious about me, does she want to know me, maybe talk, share a smile, stare into my soul, ask me questions to which I have no answer…
It’s strange how fate plays its cards, the lady in the water turns, I know she is going to walk away, I know already I will not see her again, I look up at her window, her long dark hair is caught in the breeze, how I wish I could whisper in those deep dark swirls…the light goes off and I’m still standing at the bridge looking into the filth below. But is that me looking back up or did a part of me disappear forever with her?
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