By the Church

I wonder what it's like to sit below that little Fall tree, by the gothic Church there, - basked in the nighttime green&yellow light of the streetlamp above and mossy bark. I'd rest my wearied legs + limbs atop the city concrete and just listen to all the moving things....
Rustling leaves, clicking traffic lights, passing cars, distant voices...and my shaking hands and pounding heart. Wish it would rest.
Wish I knew all the answers to the unstarted sentences. To the unfinished memories - moments - that just...went interrupted. -- Pardon me, I've got work to get back to at my desk.
And none of it could ever be real.

None of this great wide & steel city could be real at any sudden moment. Though I see it all around, and all around it does sparkle and egg me on, to call on, any - every - strange face in all the crowds.
It still thrills me here somehow.


Sigh. I'd lean with that thought back on my elbows and feel the soft sting of little pebbles digging into my cold skin. But it'd feel so fitting.

And who knows what I'd learn there.
Who knows where the hell you and I are headed. You seem as confusing and countless as the entanglement of leaves above that I so...I so...wish to have more of.

So tell me you'll meet me. Tell me you're already here. And tell me it'll be alright.
Just one piercing smile in my dusty macabre thoughts and the light will flood everything through. Warmly.


But there's a million more scenarios I could create from this spot.
And there's too many train stops to where you're always at.

So tell me you're on your way back tonight.
Cause I'd rather not miss the return.


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