From my window a sliver of moon casts a haze over the water and I listen to the rush of soft waves. Those creatures beneath the depths, do they sleep, dream? If parted do they grieve? Down the street I can see lights from an all night store, a man stands behind the counter. Cautiously he slips his hand under his jacket and takes a long swig from a bottle. A group of young thugs gather outside the storefront. I imagine them harming the storekeeper. Distracted by the young whore taking shelter in a doorway, they laugh at her and whisper. Oblivious to her vulnerability she sleeps as though she has never heard of birds of prey that swoop down with unblinking eyes, hungry beaks, and talons poised for butchery. I watch closely in case I need to call out a warning but losing interest they disappear into the dark.
Maybe nothing is real, maybe everything I think, everything I see or hear is all in my head. I lose focus and the burn of you stings just below my surface. I want to sleep, forget the sound of your voice, your unforgiving eyes, not give a damn about you.