Red, yellow and amber streaks
and blurred neons of car lights
coloured the streets post sundown,
while dark shadows played hopscotch.
Moths, like dusky dames with the
fatal flaw of being born
with wings, danced the streetlight death.
Car horns and street chatter drowned
the silent seconds observed
in their memory, and yours,
as I raised the warm milk tea
to my lips, in cold prayer.
Lovers shared a cigarette
on the sidewalk, under the
old tree with the gnarly roots.

A sudden gust let the smoke
drift like the early twenties-
slow, meandering and lost,
to the only empty chair
in the small sidewalk cafe.
It faced me meekly with its
patches of rust and blue paint.
I watched as a stray black cat
shot out from under that seat,
and fixed his green eyes on me
for a few seconds before
vanishing into the crowd,
like footfalls in the future.