I don't need a destination at this point. All i need is my feet, some headphones and a smoke or two for the road. It's as if i can sap the air of its nocturnal elements. It's as if the shadow were a boon. As if it nuzzled its way through cooling streets, spread wide, and passed out like a local drunk.
The next day i never see. I never see the sloppy monster come to his senses, stretching his dark legs and leave off the corridors and conjunctions to nurse his hangover on the other side of the globe.
Daylight is something different altogether. Daylight is docking boats and backing trucks. Beep beep beep seems to be the mating call of the day. Excited birds rise to play on the drum of the sun, circling and cooing, diving and flapping. Smog reigns supreme and little peace is paved. Kids chatter loudly like a crowd at a concert. Busses screech and pass air. the daylight is a dizzy delerium. It's a chaos. It's always too early. The day gods are boring. they'll never squeeze their crotch in public, smell their pits or pick their nose. Few farts escape, and those that do are met with frowns.
Boring boring morning, better smoked from a spliff than faced with wide-eyed sobriety. And of course our one remainder--a little gift--from the lone drunkard is the hitch we unlatch before we head off to work. That one, minute moment we release, we pass on from dark to light is our brief reprieve before forcing our way through another anxious era of awareness and action. It is a package of peace. It is a deep, dark remnant meant for the dead, that with which we've been and done.
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