In the city, I passed quietly through a faded residential area
Gazing down the uneven yet slippery roads before and behind us
Now I am content, allowing the lulling flow of the soft breeze to take me home.

­Neon lights ahead, blurred by the fog, creating accidental shapes of light
Flickering signs ahead, made smooth by the haze
Yielded to the restaurant owner and the light switch.

As tires screech past, I see to my left, the pale, gray form of a church
Old, coarse, stones line the sides of the cathedral
Just across the road, was the round figure of a Muslim mosque.

Soon I could see the lights disappearing behind us
The dull illumination of streetlights was all that remained
As evidence of the towering buildings and glowing lamps.

Ahead lay thick rows of houses, all the same
Only separated by small afflictions to their appearances
A missing shingle, scratched paint.

Individuality is in the eye of the beholder
And the straight lines of houses, seemed to rob the beholder’s eye
Of any ideas of jealousy.

But all of this I leave behind, the rearview mirror a testament
To all the hopeless that lie behind me
Now, I am lonesome, as the dashed lines take me home.

Mirror a Testament