by Christina Zhu
Issue: Ricercari (Summer 2012)
amidst the chaos of
a sticky sun setting below the gritty path
releasing a ripple of neon signs glaring into corneas filled with lost dreams
drowning their hopes in another musty bottle of oblivion—
the humid summer nights filled with shrieking cheap women
they drop their sorrows in another forgetful night together
with lost boys who had to grow up too much, too quickly—
charcoal fog rolling over asphalt
teeming with blank faces that scurry in a desperate search for a story, any story
to the cacophony of honking and tinging and whirring—
I found you.