Robots Dream In Black and White

We talked…
Like noises
That go away…
When lights turn on
Stuccoed wallpaper matted my tunnel vision
As if I were walking into a canon
To get to the sunrise at the other end
Jazz spilled onto the streets
And oiled puddles depleted by trampled impatience
I paid attention to shoes now…
I paid attention to shoes mostly wet
Footprints piled upon each other
And became a linoleum carpet for the pavement
Being not invisible, but revealing nothing
We huddled into the corner…
And professed our innocence
I half expected myself to wake up in different skin
Or at least to smell a little differently
I stayed awake most of the early morning
The dawning sun backlit the sumac bush behind my drawn shades
Pulling the strings
Pulling the strings
I rose