All-Nighters on Yonge Street

Have you ever stood in the very centre of an intersection at four in the morning, and marveled at it's emptiness? it's like looking at the lifeless body of the most beautiful person in the world.

The street is damp like the mist

That settles onto your floor

And turns cold

After you get out of a shower

And that chill that seeps into your skin,

Past your muscles, through your bones

And right into the very core of you

That chill that only comes from that time between

Late at night

And early morning

Is settling into me

The street is empty and vacant

Like a hospital bed whose sheets haven’t been changed

Since the patient left it,

The last late night bus stops

And the empty chink of my loose change

That falls a few pennies short of the exact fare

As I turn to face the other just like me

On this last Bus ride to

Wherever

I’m sure my house isn’t there home

And unless they turn into microscopic creatures

That can infect bodies

They sure as hell don’t live in my home

An old worn out drunk naps in the furthest corner

And a dried up hooker is wide awake and bored

At the front

I sit in the middle

Halfway between alone in the world

And needing some time to myself

Single seats

Deny others the chance

To get to know you

Like headphones in a crowd

Those people want to be alone and surrounded

Sometimes it’s all they can do

To muster a goodbye

They just

Open the door to their s****y apartment

And trade cigarette smoke and screaming

For curry and the smell of stale beer

In the hallway

They leave without a backward glance

And fade into the distance

Like fog suddenly dissipates

So do they

It’s my stop

The bell ring is muted but

Ugly and disruptive nonetheless

I wait until the last possible second to get up, get off

Stillness and silence are gifts rarely treasured

And that halfway, less than grey not quite blue sky is leaving

I turn the key in the lock

But I’m just as far from home as ever

Reviews

[FeliciaS (Poetic Prince..]

awesome