Spring Evening

The descent ushers in new life.
The descent ushers in new life.

A most peculiar cul-de-sac

Of buildings whose tears,

Rusted permanently beneath

Ill-fitting frames and glass,

Drip in shades of brown and grey

No different than the dust

Of the earth.

Outside the sun begins to laze

About and loiter for a bit longer

To enjoy the scenes that seem

To unfold from newly

Invigorated spirits of inhabitants

Once cloistered solemnly to

Escape the cold.

A young girl cries on a bench

Colored haphazardly by

A drunken rainbow with

A socket wrench of Chinese make,

Unsure of how to process

This evening cacophony

In the air.

Yells and cheers as balls

Reverberate on cracked concrete

That has been painted faded

Pastels as crude delineation of

Imagined boundaries to show

Everyone where the bounds are

When they step out.

Young men stand outside small shops

And kick dirt pensively as they

Try to decide upon which depressing

Aspect of their teenage lives

To revolt against, ultimately deciding

That everything is revolting and

It’s easier to squat.

Cars zip up and down crooked roads

Designed without them in mind,

Humming and sputtering and blaring

Their horns to get the owners of others

To move their machines out of the way

So that they can wedge their tires

In peace of mind.

Darkness falls and the sun decides

It’s time to finally call it quits on the city,

Slinking downward, street lamps

Flicker on and some continue to flicker

Late into the night, providing lighting

For the street-night dance party that

No one attends.

Only moments ago children chased

One another as their parents

Chatted idly, leaning on metal

Fences meant to keep dogs

Away from the grass, but they

End up there anyway because

The gaps are too big.

The street is somewhat quiet, nothing

Really outside except for the young band

Of aimless teens seeking that sweet

Embrace of a cheap thrill shrouded in

The safety of blinding darkness and

drunken men down on their luck having spent

The last of their money.

Composed 05/11/2013

Author’s Note: An interesting piece to be posting in the dead of Mongolian autumn, no? A good juxtaposition for the season, I suppose. The signs of life that come to be during this period is really a marvel to behold, especially considering how lifeless most areas are during the evening in winter. A blossoming of hidden life. I rather enjoy it, and look forward to seeing it happen again.

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