A Night Out

I step outside and am immediately hit by the night.
The night has always had a way of getting under my skin.
My eyes drift over the cold concrete and take in the sky– blue-black, pristine, crisp. Stars. There’s honey on the moon. I’m surprised by the clarity; I’d become accustomed to the haze of the city light pollution. Haven’t seen it like this since the country.

I miss the country.

I start walking in my free sort of way. My hips roll, lending figure eights. It’s unintentional, but I notice it sometimes in my shadow. Other people notice, too. Other people always notice. I don’t mind.
My iPod’s loud, but it doesn’t drown out everything. I feel the vibrations of the cars as they pass, I pick up the light before I pick up the sound. I pass anonymous faces on the sidewalk. I wonder who they are. Where they’re going, where they’ve been. The taxis race by. I’m oblivious.

I’m nearly in town now, the ground fell quickly beneath my feet, a lot quicker than I’d anticipated. I slowed my pace and hit the slow, comfortable roll again. I don’t walk like anyone else. Everyone else walks like they’ve got somewhere to be. I’m just enjoying the night.
I thumb through the songs til I find the right one. The lyrics blare through my speakers. I wonder if anyone else can hear. Two Gallants.
Surely you’ve seen better, but for you I did my best, sometimes nighttime brings you back again.. that curse, that western wind, cause I’ve known lonesome things you can’t come back from, and I knew we’d be strangers in the end.
Funny how music and life can coincide.

I do my rounds of the town. I smile at my acquaintances, but I don’t stop. I hit the canal and take in the quiet black of the water. It always looks so beautiful in the dark, when one can’t see the litter by careless hands. Even down by the canal I can hear the pronounced thumping of the club acres away. I shiver, pull tighter the leather of my jacket around me, and begin to retrace my steps.

I step up on the curb like a child, arms out, balancing. I get strange looks from the cab drivers as they pass me by, and I smile in return. One slows and asks me if I need a ride home. He assumes I’m drunk. I shake my head. He shrugs and moves on. I watch my converse hi-tops pound the pavement as I slip back inside my head and drown out the rest of the world.

I’m at home again now. The still warmth stings my eyes, but it’s welcoming all the same. I pass the time engrossed with films and music, and soon I can see dawn spilling through the curtains. I check the clock. Half five. Only just dawn, but it comes quickly. The sky is that peculiar mix of pastel orange and blue. No clouds. The promise of another beautiful day.