half a pie moon hovering
while fleeting
mist-like clouds float on
causing a blurry outer edge
there’s a slight breeze
then there’s not
the air is unseasonably sticky
I drift off into the cityscape
hotel rooms and offices
light up and dim randomly
like shooting stars out of the
corner of one’s eye
jutting structures
offer a multitude of colors
with some ever-changing
the city’s sound is comforting
constant hums of
industrial a.c. units
lull me into a trance-like state
only to be jarred back by
sirens or honking horns
fortunately
at these heights
people don’t even exist
Gloomy Forebodings 