in the gaze of neon dragons

i  stand alone

in this crowded, crowded city of three million crowded souls,

some of which keep passing by,

they see my shadow with their vacant eyes,

i am not there, really there,

at least to them,

i must be but one of them,

the empty souls who fill their lives with unspoken secrets,

tucked deep within

the inner places that are behind the padlocked doors,

where all is thought and moaning chants,

as if haunted by hooded monks at midnight prayers

in the candled, chapel-ed cloister of their cruel and common fear,

they walk these rain-soaked streets,

jumping puddles and hailing cabs,

past the doors of whiskey comforts

and rum soaked conversations,

past the desperate invitations of worn-out painted ladies

and worn-out broken men,

i stand alone,

so all alone it seems,

a mere and tiny mortal at the feet of glowering giants of stone and steel,

lost here in the darker streets  of night,

beneath the gaze of neon dragons,

who gaze hungrily

into my innocence,

and in my innocence, my fear

i am so fragile here,

a quickened, shallow breath,

praying panicked prayers

to the God who dares dwell in such a place as this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The End

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