City

A city night, whirlwind,
Caught endlessly in one like how
The traffic never ceases on the streets, how
The crowd flows, surges, congregates,
Finally separating. It was like brief shut-eye
That bridged office walls and shopping malls
And emails and messages that never end.
Oh blasted another missed call it is too noisy to return,
Maybe later.
It was sitting in the middle of five hundred people
Having dinner losing track of time and hurrying alongside
Dark grey buildings on dark grey pavements
It was the looming light and the cold, unfriendly draft – air curtains
Welcoming us into the bowels of yet another spaceship.
Stairs morph into escalators,
Queues into wrong queues
And then a familiar happy darkness brings a smile.
They enter. The lights dance on and off
Following a story, a sad, regrettable story.
It was a grand self indulging exercise
In futility? In humility? In civility?
An induced euphoria not too different
Not too different indeed from drug fueled hallucinations.
But different.
It morphed swiftly again. They laughed. Like old friends.
They were old friends.
It was like being home. It was,
Happy.
Writers being just writers, unrestricted
Actors being just actors, unstressed
Directors having fun,
Coming together, doing something different,
something, fun.
It was over like emerging from a dream into reality
And dark empty streets filled with winking inconsequential
Self-entertaining traffic lights
Directing nobody.
It was an escalator. Two.
And lists. And twinkling glasses
That rolled into a Friday night haze of
Abandonment and more euphoria.
Into a sidelong glance down the empty orange streets and blank smiles.
It was dark streets accompanying my feet
Leading me somewhere
In this city.


Julien


Inspired by Friday 17 June 2011, Utter, and S.

City