By Derek Ardita
The heart of the city beats with the pitter patter of footsteps upon pavement…
They echo…
An inconsistent vibration, like an off time musical…
Broadway with no rhythm…
A song with no rhyme…
Alleyways keep secrets…
Like whispered screams…
Muffled voices that disperse into the darkness of night...
Gunshots…
Churning into surreal silence…
Blackened by the void…
A music encapsulated within the underground chambers of the city…
Street lights flicker and sway like sweat soaked jazz…
Darkening the cracks in the sidewalks where tramps spit arpeggios of filth…
Body heat collides with the fragrance of damp armpits…
Exhaling whiskey breath into the friction of passersby…
A friction…
Pointless…
An unclimactic masturbation…
Ritualistic and riddled with duty…
Couples stagger arm in arm…
Not quite together…
Like a drunken symphony…
Missing notes…
Ignoring ques…
They blindly continue their imperfect melody anyways…
Soon to be nestled deep within the mystery of the night…
Traffic lights flash signals like key signatures…
Throwing sharps and flats into continuous movement…
These streets play broken scales…
Dark yet passionate compositions to parking lot one night stands and sticky bar floor romances…
A background score to hazy cigarette smoke filled rooms…
Where they want so badly to sleep…
But can’t breathe…
Where they want so badly to love…
But can’t dream…
Trapped within the city’s song…