Euphoria

What euphoria holds itself in the waters of a dimly lit speedway, what wonder must reveal itself behind each shutter of a suburban window, of each squalid shop of the beloved city, remnants of weary engineering and sleepy days daining away into the tax payer’s storm drains. Bureaucracy and complexity mix like oil and water, a socio-chemical solution to the simply impossible problem of existence.

Ode to the dirty laudro mats and ugly pawn shops, ode to the latin influence, as instilled into me as any dream ever could be. Ode to repetitive housing, cul-de-sacs, late night subway buskers, the broken homeless scattered like loose change.
   
Walk away with your head held forward. The empty infinity,
Draining into a vast ocean.
Too many words to count, too many people to count on.