This city.

Tonight I bought a pack of cigarettes, and walking out, caught a glimpse of the rail heading south. Where were they all going? I looked at the bright lights and told myself that this is the world I thought about when I wanted to move to the city. Out there they are living the lives I told myself I would. I just don't know how.

Sometimes I think you need a key, a password to get into this city. I could head to a bar I've heard of, but I'm sure that I would only be a tourist there, someone the regulars tolerate until their departure. I hear about a punk show, and think that I might be able to fit in, but the smell of the country mouse sits on my clothes. I'm a resident only in address. Dallas awaits my departure.

It seems so much easier for the people I've talked to that have lived and thrived in this city. Maybe it's all a hoax. Alligators in the sewer. They talk about the good times, but leave out the crippling moments of loneliness, Who knows. Zagat? Well, I only read his Cliff Notes....