We wandered the night aimlessly.
The children of street-urchin-anarchy
sacrificed to the detrivores
of the sky-high metal labyrinths.
(For fear they’ll devour the living)

I remember it vividly.
The iron foundry air
cut like a razor through my sweater skin.
The concrete beneath my feet
swallowing the warmth like a vacuum.

Then you wrapped yourself around me like
a Mylar blanket.
And seeped into my skin
in a cosmic osmosis of lost souls.
For a moment we were home.

Only a moment.

We were thin white plastic blowing in the wind.

The wild jazz solo of the oscillating wind,
tossing the great waters,
out-singing the sheer sighs of the unruly sea.
The clouds dressed grey, in mourning
the sun will peek
only to be swallowed by fishermen's mist.
Flickering bolts greet thunder rolling
with unchallenged prevalence,
shaking the Earth into fear.

Nature's response.