Orange and Green.

Even as I traveled there,
I wondered how I was going to get home and in what state.
The vodka mixer I drank was not sitting well in my stomic and
exhaustion was already beginning to over take my body.

Long walks across the dark streets of chicago.
Streets lined with orange hued lights. I always some how felt
more comfortable walking while holding a leaf in my hand.
I make my way to his place. There's a party there.
One which I'm not at all sure how I'll (re)act.
Awkward asshole; I call myself.

My head spins a bit. I travel on.
I cross the street and think of how my father
said I make him nervous when I cross streets here.
I never worry. The 16th block comes up.
Already I see young people pouring from the building;
CPD has broken up the party. It's the que that my night is over.
I've not the energy to stick around.

Quiet; I begin to walk back.
Trees rustle, orange street lights cast their
soft shadows. From my lips comes the words of
folk songs; I'm apt to sing to myself while walking if no one is around.
It's during these times when I allow that childhood memory of
singing in a band rise again.
Ahead of me two guys and a girl stand in the street with bikes.
"I love my bike!" she yells to the guys clearly drunk.
Embarrassed, my singing ceases and I walk on.
It's all I can do not to stop and rest. I know I'll run the
risk of falling asleep if I do so.

Thus, I happened upon the longest
journey of my life.






















though I say it all
rather loosely.