Snowden

I am wandering the cold wet streets alone at night as dark figures slither in and out of shadows.  A conspiracy of whispers and crooked gestures with gnarled hands in the periphery.  Until their tenuous union is shattered by a tin can rattling on the concrete and they are gone.  Evaporating into the neon afterlife.  Only the haunting cry of a stray cat stalks my feet as they grind broken glass against black gravel in the off-color rainbow of grease in pothole puddles that reflect only the dark image of a worn tired face caged by steel towers and concrete walls sneering back at me.  Viewing itself only for the few fractions of a second before my shoe stomps down and it is gone.  I exhale slowly, just like the city.  Billowy white clouds, born underground, blow out their short lives as they escape into the night through sewer drains and manhole covers.  The city exhales human breath that is seen momentarily in the icy air, then is gone.  Left to die in a dark sky, completely devoid of stars, stolen by man for his city at night.  And nobody cares.  As the walls creep closer and the streets slowly writhe into a maze of nameless places.  Filled with nameless people.  Shuffling through this prison utopia like cockroaches through a trash heap.  A maze with no exit.  And nobody cares.  As the noise and smells rise up, all at once, each to each.  Sirens, sewers, screaming, and shit.  Smothering me here, in this indiscriminant spot, between the grime and the graffiti.  My hollow body gnawed on by rats, cold slime running through my hair, in the gutter of an empty street.   With nowhere to go.  And nobody cares.  Until I see you.  Glowing in the darkness.  Moonbeams shine down on me when you smile.  The cold lifts away from numb fingers and toes.  As the clouds die.  One by one.  Forgotten.  Now the stray comes out from where it has been shadowing me, from where it has been a shadow, and rubs against my shoes.  Moonbeams shine down on me when you smile.  I close my eyes and your milky glow turns the darkness gray.  Taking me to that winter place where black trees extend skeletal fingers from beneath a white blanket that crunches softly underfoot.  Here in your tundra garden.  The frosty air suspended into a dreamlike fog.  An icy airborne lullaby singing me to sleep.  Singing me to forget.  Beneath the pure white sky where there are only clouds.  You walk to me slowly.  Your black hair riding unfelt breezes.  You slowly come near.  You kiss my cheek.  Cold lips.  A winter kiss.  In our frozen dreamworld.  We speak only with our eyes.  Mine frozen shut now from the tears of an unforgiven love.  In our frostbite wasteland.  With only the dream of light reflected off a dead body reminding me of you.  And I am free.

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