October 2011
1 post
Endings
3AM. Going home. Dew on the seat of my motorbike. The tangle of cables overhead, strung along uneven poles. Dogs dozing along residential streets; unwelcome behind unimpressive homes. Skirting around the periphery of the neighborhood. One side homes, the other an empty field, stalks green and long. A golden crescent of a moon, cliche in its perfectness.