Feels like the end of the day. Tired, worn, eyes open only for traffic. Body sore, hands ache as they grip the wheel. Less light now to see the pall of pallid faces.
Feels like that shower, and the lather of soap. The hours of work washed down the drain. It stops now. That grind, that gritting of teeth, those white knuckles now flush with color. Breathe, and now it’s gone.
Feels like that walk outside, while the city still pulses. Eyes now open, under amber haze and buzzing street lights. Engines, tires splash upon puddles, headlights that turns the gaze down. The scent of rain clouds, and barbeque from a drive-in not far away. Ash a nail and walk further still. The city’s tidy blocks afloat with trash blowing in the breeze.
Feels like that time before the eyes finally close. Thoughts of the next day put off until then. That day, and the next, and next. Not one day alike, yet all a blur. The clock numbers glow their green hue. The freeway still roars in the distance. The room is stuffy, and windless, and the night promises no less of this.
My eyes can close now. It is there I see her. Smiling, laughing, and it’s my hope to see her once more. My final thoughts of the day. Less in the silence of these hours. Just one chance, as if a wish. Blown now, then into sleep.