i don't smoke

i hear the rain pitter-pattering on my umbrella

and hitting the pavement along distant conversations

of strangers on their way home from work or some such thing

the sound of a harmonica is echoing off the buildings

a strangely stark sound considering the limits of a man lungs

and the vastness of the square

i've found him, sitting without a roof directly in the rain

delivering a sad athmosphere to the dark and fall-struck town

i imagine how fitting this would be for one of the people around me

having a bad day

around the corner the alleyway is screaming at me in static feedback

the woeful sound of the harmonica distorts at this distance

i feel like i am waking from a dream

as i stare into that mirror-world which contains cars headlights

and lives in a wet street, trapped forever to reflect back on itself

until it fades into a world so small i am unable to observe it

for a moment i feel the world going monochrome

as i imagine myself as a detective in a noir movie

who just hit a dead end in his case

i throw an imaginary cigar to the floor

i don't smoke

19.11.2024