My sidetracked silhouette
slowly disappeared
into the night
as darkness fell
and landed on the sunset,
but then I heard the voice
of my not-so-silent silhouette
and it whispered
I am a product of the suburbs.
I pondered on the thought
too long
and soon I saw the sun rise
I knew the city, still asleep,
could not attempt to reach me.
I am an evangelist of the morning.
The soft and
subtle outline of my
missing silhouette
lingered in my memory
like that red and purple
painted sunset
as morning came, so bright and
calm and yellow-purple in its newness
and I wondered if it looked
the same
in 1972
and I suddenly knew the suburbs
were something in my past,
and I realized that my
silhouette would soon become
a shadow, and my shadow
would get sidetracked just like my
long-lost silhouette, and I would
only be myself
and that was all I needed, and I could
now lay down at night
and finally
get some rest.
-kb
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