Making imaginary friends with the strangers on the subway,
this city wreaks of need.
Someone stops to ask if I am lost,
-I am-
aren't you?

My eyes are tearing
in the wind's mouth-
siempre, i love you, and pretend
you walk with me through these mean streets in the middle of the night.

Life Cafe buzzes and burns at 2 am.
I am hot for life,
stepping on its heels,
try to be still while everything reels.

There is nothing that is like to be,
and it all comes crashing down on me.

Stand clear of the closing doors.

© 2005 : Jenny Ryan