I wander through the waste like a black dog in the dark among warehouse walls and gutted buildings. I am fond of the night and drawn to the city’s guts too desolate for squatting. Down coal black alleys and into a small grassy barren. To the top of a bank that overlooks railroad tracks.
Down the escarpment to the very edge of the tracks. Now in the icy dawn as trucks labor and cough over the rough bricked streets i sit where the rails shine in the bitter moon. Tracks fleeing to some better world where strangers embrace without compunction. Trains rattling down the tracks leaving such utter desolation in their wake that i crouch sobbing on the rails, a hot and salty sorrow choking me, hands dangling and face twisted beyond anguish as i watch the train disappear around the curve and the last car click its final silence.
I will go back to the tenement now and sleep and dream of my beloved, dead a year now. I chase her in these dreams and she runs away and laughs but i get closer to her with each chasing. I will be with her soon, perhaps in the next dream.