twinkling lights;

like fissures in heaven's marble floor,

leak scents of loneliness and gasoline.

peripheral vision scans passing windows and,

through the glass,

a table for one on valentine's

is displaying warm lights and

perfectly staged scenes of love,

contrasting the cold tint of early day.

a face as pale as the skies

searches for recognizable features

in dark spaces.

as her breath fades,

swallowed by the the smoke from a glowing cigar,

groans of protesting cars and white noise chatter

drown her out and

*life goes on