lying atop the blankets, bathed in the purple tv light, thinking, for every couple staring out the window at the marvelous paris city lights, there’s another couple fighting in some bedroom, just like this. never having made it, unsure of when life began, unsure of when they walked through the door.

-

the cars and streets move in silence. some of the buildings look like dreams from long ago — and here i am, soaked in cheap whiskey, unable to sleep. staring at the dumb, roku city lights,

burning, burning, burning alive.