Last Night

"Day of sea in the sky, made
From shadows and horses and plumes.

Day of sea in my room -- cube
Where my sleepwalker's movements slide
Between animal and flower, like medusas.

Day of sea in the sea, high day
Where my gestures are seagulls who lose themselves
Spiralling over the clouds, over the spume."

-- Day of Sea by Sophia de Mello Breyner

... was a beautiful night to behold had I been lying down on the cool sands of a breezy shore. The moon was almond and white, its freckles were apparent like the issues on my face. The clouds convened alongside its pellucid brightness, supporting its luminescent endeavors like real friends. My fingers shook, cleaving the burning stick in between my quandaries, the smoke deserting me and joining the faint skies. It was such dismay I found myself in a tiki restaurant, surrounded by fake trees and fake people. I had been sipping on the sour sweetness of orange juice, trying to relieve my tongue of its doleful indifference. Tracy Chapman warmed my seat while I tried singing along with her. Insightful words from a person familiar with the aches of urbanity. She kept singing even when no one else was around. She kept singing when nobody cared to listen.

I sat there alone but I had a feeling that I belonged.

I had a feeling I could be someone.