street so wet, sidewalk so damp,
dampening the sound
of footsteps of stumblers, stumbling in and out
of bars and cars cruising the boulevards,
and avenues, so untrue to their hearts and
minds, succumbing to lust.

green creepers, creeping,
green creepers turning brown
turning brown as cold creeps in
dying until next spring,
brown creepers spring to life
and become green once more.

i walk along these streets, so old and traveled,
by travelers long ago, lost and forgotten,
forgotten by time and by the travelers themselves,
a journey made daily, forgotten just hours later.