7.4.12

Bronte

Because we all
need to get out of
ourselves for a while.

To be yourself,
but in a different realm.
Existing elsewhere.
Pretending
that maybe you are 
not you.
You don't know 
anybody here.
The city is a mask
I will always wear fondly.

The anonymity
I can gain
in a place where
no one knows my 
name is 
such beautiful solace.

To walk streets
with numbered names with
which I am unfamiliar.
Side streets
I have never seen,
ivy-covered
dreams I will store
in my memory.
As inner sanctums
in the concrete.
A flush of green
against stone.

Uneven sidewalks
buses
people
and cars
and traffic and 
a beauty
you can not find
anywhere but a city.

And someday
I will set foot 
in a new adventure,
where nobody knows my name,
nobody stops moving,
the subways roll perpetually,
the lights never dim.

To forget who I am,
where I am,
if only for an afternoon

is a peace
I cannot fully explain in words.


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