Wet pavement and orange street lights
The sound of distant tires
Cutting a path through the moisture
Laying in the cracks of the highway
Wet and thick
Breathing in the fog
A record playing in my head
pops and cracks, jazz, singing out
Some lonely saxaphone

Buzzing
Humming
The entire world is black but orange
Sitting on a curb
Smoke another one
I fit so perfectly in this performance
Yet I've never been so detatched