Driving the Night Away

at nightfall
i roam the city more than anyone i know.
 
i drive the alleys.

i search the bridges.

i look everywhere.

i roam the city more than anyone i know.

i pass sleeping bags on the sidewalks

like old feathers at the bottom of an empty cage.

i drift by carcasses and empty buildings.

police cars and boarded windows

and shards of glass that liter the road

like cake sprinkles.

i roam the city more than anyone i know.

every night.

by myself. 

for hours.

i do not remember my dreams anymore.

i only remember the breath of the moon.

the sound of my tires on the gravel

breaking the crust of a silent, desolate world.

it is where i keep my memories,

my loved ones, my friends. 

it is where i store them. 

and they do not know this, of course.

i take everything with me on those drives.

it is where i visit them the most,

in all their beauty and glory. 

i roam the city more than anyone i know.

to visit myself.

to burn off those sleeping bags
and uncover shallow graves
of undisturbed memories.

to refract death.

and to be truly thankful
for all the birds

inside my cage.