He hadn’t been out in ages.
Catacombed in walls and
the spaces between.
He wept in the light,
the darkness illuminated,
weak and empty. But he knew,
nothing. Just like everyone
else. Through the city he
moved like Sisyphus. A
night like this would not
soon be forgotten. But
he would. Bar one;
they were there, his friends.
But then he remembered that
he had none. The bottom of
that glass came too fast,
out out, brief candle. He
never was one to stick around
past his time. Met a man or
at least he thought. Said
he knew a place to go. Where?
Anywhere. Everywhere.
Sounded fine by
him. So there is where they
went. It was a short trip
but it was a trip. On time
he arrived where he was right
now. Never did he feel so
happy in all his poor, poor, poor
life, or at least he couldn’t
remember happier. It was
midnight. It was raining
but that didn’t bother him
much. He was sure they’d
be missing him soon, but
then he remembered:
he was alone;
had no
one, no thing.
But he
had this fellow, or
at least he thought.
But then he,
he remember
he never left
home.