Corner of Telford and Ludlow

Slow night.
It's always a slow night around here.
Fat kids gallivanting.
Too much free time on their hands.
Like me.
We're all too free.
Except the Marxist.
Or so he thinks.
I'm tired of placating the Marxist.
Yes, democracy and socialism can work together fine.
Right, but only if you're president.
Sure, we aren't using the left sides of our brains.
Too much technology, he says.
Once our minds are completely lost, we won't even know it's the end of the world.
The screens will all go black, I tell him.
But before they look up, it'll be too late.
The world's gone dark, but the screens are bright.
If these beauties look my way, I swear I won't look away.
But they're not that pretty.
And I should remember what Rumi says.
What did he say again?
Ah yes, "Don't speak too long with a fool."
Here I am, speaking to myself.
Or maybe I'm not.
Maybe I'm speaking to you.
Or what's left of you after having listened to me speak for a time.
If there's a reason for my being here,
It's lost on all but me.
I'm more than half-dead
But too alive to know it.
Ask that girl.
She'll tell you.
She knows there's less than a chance at beginning something new.