andyh
Bluelighter
The smoke of my cigarette
Lingers in the humid summer night air
As I walk down the middle of the empty road.
Illuminated by a single street light,
It slowly dissipates.
The Big Dipper is partially covered tonight,
And a plane flies by in a not-so-perfect imitation
Of the stars that are hidden by the clouds
Whose rain drops can be heard on the trees
But not yet felt.
Alone in the street, I pace.
Anxiously waiting for something to happen.
A storm, a dog's bark, another soul to join me
In this cliched existence that means nothing
And everything all at once.
Sometimes, like the desperate Russian princess,
I want to throw myself under a train,
Or, like a tragic Greek philosopher, to consume
Poison and die a misunderstood death as I
Have lived a misunderstood life.
These acts, these defiant gests,
Are nothing in this ongoing saga.
But when my restless spirit finally haunts this place
You will know that the cliche never existed.
And me, with my cigarette, will watch you from the Big Dipper.
Lingers in the humid summer night air
As I walk down the middle of the empty road.
Illuminated by a single street light,
It slowly dissipates.
The Big Dipper is partially covered tonight,
And a plane flies by in a not-so-perfect imitation
Of the stars that are hidden by the clouds
Whose rain drops can be heard on the trees
But not yet felt.
Alone in the street, I pace.
Anxiously waiting for something to happen.
A storm, a dog's bark, another soul to join me
In this cliched existence that means nothing
And everything all at once.
Sometimes, like the desperate Russian princess,
I want to throw myself under a train,
Or, like a tragic Greek philosopher, to consume
Poison and die a misunderstood death as I
Have lived a misunderstood life.
These acts, these defiant gests,
Are nothing in this ongoing saga.
But when my restless spirit finally haunts this place
You will know that the cliche never existed.
And me, with my cigarette, will watch you from the Big Dipper.
