75000 at 4am

   






Strolling the streets,
when the last metro's gone and the city sleeps on hot summer nights,
I stroll down the side-streets and the avenues,
past the shut down stores and remains of histories of grandeur and empires. 


Time watches its work.


The road turns and forks endlessly through the maze.
Summer-night smells fill the air, the city breathes heavily,
through windows sweaty bodies struggle for the sleep that helps them through
the jungle of every day's struggles through society's challenges.
In a few hours the streets will be heaving again, 
like veins that feel the drugged blood flow,
the city will be alive again, living to the pulse of the chase for life's rich rewards.

For now I simply stroll, passively watching it all,
peaceful yet menacing, for in its shadows its underworld lies,
full of death and agony, 
the city also gets the blues (at 4 in the morning on a hot summer night).