At the end of an empty street
there’s a street light. A small cone of blue light in the cold dark. It suggests safety, knowing that the space right there is empty because you can see in that light that nothing is there. But what about just beyond the edge of light? What about the night that surrounds that light; who lurks there? I wouldn’t wait under the light, advertising myself to all those I cannot see. Even though I know the street is empty. But I don’t know because I can’t see and if you can’t see you can’t know. The rustle in the hedge, rumble of cars in the distance, footsteps down the alley.
It’s late at night but I won’t stand under the light in this dark empty street. I’m waiting to be picked up. The car’s head lights will pick me out before I can make sure of the car. I wonder if I should hide so that I can be sure of who is in the car before I reveal myself. I know I am being overly concerned. I suck on my joint and wait, sucking deep into my lungs, waiting for the relief. All I feel is heavy and unable tomove.