waterskiing on the lake of fire
Staring is my favorite hobby.
Young Asian women fade into sunlight glaring through windows of the bus.
I stare until everything empties. I stare into emptiness until it is filled.
Young Asian women are dressed in the prettiest shadows of the subway station. I would follow them onto their trains, but I am stuck to my shadow. My shadow is stuck to emptiness. I stare into the floor patterns and imagine the life I might have lived.
I put my shadow on the wrong train. The doors close. I run away.
Please don't tell me what the evening will do to me.
I don't know why moths tap my windowpane. The light I offer is false. For I, too, am the shadow of something that ran away.