The long morning after...
I haven't slept - it seems like days. Wandering Midtown in the half light, looking through dark glasses for ghosts in the gray damp morning where there are none. I grew so accustomed to them in Orlando - everywhere. Here, I am no longer haunted. I am the one haunting a city I've never really lived in since I moved here seven years ago. Turning corners, presented with places I've been but never been familiar with, searching for the "what could have" I only see what never was. Lives lived by others. Lives I've shared nothing with. Seeing where lovers could have walked, where friends could have met, where dreams could have been made manifest down streets of hundred year old leafless Oaks, ancient broken sidewalks and dew drenched driveways leading up to backyards filled with other people's memories, I steal a glance and continue on. I stop occasionally to be sure that I'm not missing something - there should be something more. There was always something more in the past but now, here, there is nothing. Farther down the street the brisk wind blows through an approaching, empty, early Saturday morning Piedmont Park before turning to 14th and Peachtree, a wind tunnel where it cuts through and through. Its something to feel at least. Anything is better then nothing. I just didn't know. Perhaps tonight I can rest...
I haven't slept - it seems like days. Wandering Midtown in the half light, looking through dark glasses for ghosts in the gray damp morning where there are none. I grew so accustomed to them in Orlando - everywhere. Here, I am no longer haunted. I am the one haunting a city I've never really lived in since I moved here seven years ago. Turning corners, presented with places I've been but never been familiar with, searching for the "what could have" I only see what never was. Lives lived by others. Lives I've shared nothing with. Seeing where lovers could have walked, where friends could have met, where dreams could have been made manifest down streets of hundred year old leafless Oaks, ancient broken sidewalks and dew drenched driveways leading up to backyards filled with other people's memories, I steal a glance and continue on. I stop occasionally to be sure that I'm not missing something - there should be something more. There was always something more in the past but now, here, there is nothing. Farther down the street the brisk wind blows through an approaching, empty, early Saturday morning Piedmont Park before turning to 14th and Peachtree, a wind tunnel where it cuts through and through. Its something to feel at least. Anything is better then nothing. I just didn't know. Perhaps tonight I can rest...