JUST TRYING TO GET HOME
(TOO CLOSE FOR AN UBER)

I walk.
The streets are empty.
Winter is as debilitating as the flu.
So I walk.
The streets are empty;
but I can sense vibrations from nearby buildings -
maybe it's just my whimsy?
I can sense flutters and flitters of life
The vague descants of EDM songs
and merry (intoxicated) laughter -
but I walk on.
Solidly, drunkenly, tiredly
as the words raise their heads hopefully
and the hopes pour unrelentingly.

I walk on
past inviting fast food corners
and beguiling street lights

I walk
with the ghost of you by my side
but I feel the eyes of my readers roll
derisively and I stutter and continue on
talking to you inwardly like a wayward child
still playing pretend games.
Outwardly, I'm humming the glimmers of a sixties song.

And I walk.
No I stumble, pardon moi.
I bum a cigarette from a stranger on the street,
play a quick game of kiss and don't tell
with his political idea of what this country should be
And I walk on
Stumble on
It's not too cold
But it's cold enough
to have me longing for a sweltering winter and
fantasies of how sad I could have been
about a continent away.

I walk.
There is a destination.
I remember now.
There is a destination

. But I don't know how to get there