Night Walk, you tempt me.
You lean in close behind me until I feel the tickle of your lips whispering, breathing the words right next to my ear:
"Come out with me."
...
And I can't help myself.
I follow you, sometimes in streetlight, sometimes in the dark. Sometimes there's a sidewalk but it often breaks off without warning, as if the cement-men expected pedestrians to simply vanish with nothing but pale wisps of smoke when their journey is done.
I follow you somewhat blindly.
I'm glad you know where you're going. Because I know how we got here...but not how we'll get back...
It's a good thing I trust you.
You stay silent for while, giving me time to sort out my cacophony of thoughts until they have faded into a calmer stream. I appreciate that. This kind of time is a rare thing for me.
Once I'm steady, you slowly begin to point out things to me. You show me the shards of glass on the pavement that reflect light from who-knows-where to sparkle in a way that makes me wonder how something so dangerous could be so pretty. You help me notice the only other night-walker out tonight: a man with rushed steps that hurry him down the road in the dark where only his purposeful silouette can be seen.
A pleasant, tiny jingling sound comes from my hand where I'm moving those little presents around in my palm. After all, that's what they're meant for.
You take me across roads I've driven on in daylight, when the world is going-nonstop-busy, although they're empty and quiet now. Then we go down streets that I didn't know where there, in little corners that don't exist for me outside of this peaceful solitude.
I feel like I could stay with you all night...
but I have things to do in the morning.
Nevertheless,we really must do this again soon.
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