We went dancing into the night because there were too many people during the day. It seemed to me as though someone stole the city at sunset and put it back in the morning. What's left in those dark hours is the blueprint, the way we envision it but never see it.
The sun today is shy, or maybe mad at me. Of all things to hold grudges, what gives us life wants me dead. Still I have no regrets. What the moon saw was what we live for. To many nights like this, we said during the day, knowing we wouldn't see any more of those for a while.
I left my sunglasses at home and I don't know if it was intentional. Maybe I wanted to see things a little more clearly before my vision obfuscates again. Vision in what sense, you ask. I nod and I smile, but I don't reply. My personality hangs over me like the dome of sadness that hangs over this city. A world without flies, that's what happiness is. A little more green, a little less lethal.
A little too far gone in the past, you say, like those posters of the olden days. Everything in photos is farther away than how our eyes see it. It's still my vision of the future, nonetheless. To have it all a bit closer, a bit more familiar, with a little more meaning.
YOU ARE READING
Flights of Fancy
PoetryThere is another dimension beyond that which is known to fictional characters. A collection of short stories, poems, snippets, vignettes, and everything else that crosses my mind and has no place in my current publications, or is waiting in the wing...
