Bones & Air

I walk alone in the bones of the city...the high structures...the millions of strangers.  A rain that only dampens and corrupts but at the same time cleanses...it washes our sins and lets the drain into overflooded gutters.

I stride the streets.

A bit of music in my ears, an anthem, a love song.  It is a bit of you in my music, a bit of you in my mind...amidst these strangers I seek a pair of eyes that may look like yours, a bit of hair as it falls that reminds me of you...so many passers-by...there should at least be one. 

Be one that may briefly resemble you.

But goddamn that is impossible...isn't it?  In this city of a million plus how could I ever find another you when even on this entire planet that isn't possible?

I feel the wind whip up amongst the streets...the long stretches...it effects my breathing...my normal rhythmic breathing...

Not the breathing that occurs at certain moments with you.

The streets reflect colors and shapes...but mostly it is noise...sirens, horns...talking in a myriad of languages...some happy, some sad....cannot tell for sure.

I glance at the sky and it is low and bland...stars are hidden tonight...but I know they exist.  They are a million miles away...and you are not quite that far.

I find the city cold...quite the opposite of how you are to me.

This bevy of corners and streetlights...this street of signs and lights...you were way more mysterious...you had no indicators...it was all based on feel...making my way down your avenues.

I heard murmurs...the sounds of buses and taxis...the slight pull of traffic and the spill of pedestrians between stoplights.  It is stop and go.

Rather with you it was languid...it was pulling taffy...stretching and stringing...not breaking but clinging.  Sugary...the very essence of you is a sugar that I crave, a candy-tooth desire.  I find it stark against the rest of the blaring colors and noise.

In this city of millions I find you...I seek you...I exude you.  I want to find you at that corner, bundled in clothes and hats and mittens...

Maybe you hold a cigarette ripe for lighting.

Maybe you hold a kiss ripe for commencing.

No bother...the journey was worth it.  Navigating these pressing crowds of passers-by...I seek you out to find one who fits.

In so many ways.

Hand in glove.

Rose to vase.

I want to breathe in your fresh air...beyond the bones of this city...outside the carnage and chaos.  I want to go past infrastructure and soaring bricks...I want the human...the blood...the real.

I want you to want the real as you cross a street across a sea of people and feel like I could pluck you out and make you feel special, make you feel wanted...make you feel comforted.  At home.

But a home you do not know yet...but a hope you speculate.  A home that you know might exist.

In this city of millions I want you to feel alone....but I want you feel so amazingly special to one.

That is the paradox.