by Lizzie Gibbons
We only look for tomorrow. Â Sharp sounds give us the time. Â Inside and outside all at once. Â Gray buildings give off long shadows. Â There is a small girl petting a large dog. Â Feeble greens burst through cracked pavement. Â The girl is sad. Â The girl only looks for tomorrow. Â Lights go on. Â Our eyes adjust to ink and fluorescence. Â We take the girl with us, for she is sad and abused. Â We wander away.
I only smell smoke, there is no coffee left. Â Do you feel empty as well? Â Crushed dreams fall out of windows and under the wheels of dusty cars. Â The air is full of smoke. Â Africa seems nice right now. Â Iâ€™m sick of giant dogs and broken-winged birds. The girl is crying but I donâ€™t know what to do. Â The city is large and we are small. Â If that is good or bad Iâ€™m yet to find out. I canâ€™t stop my shaking for much longer. Soon it will be evening again.