bedford street

from my window i see

lights carved in other windows

it's past midnight

and i walk my favorite bedford street

here, lights get quiet after sunrise

but now each one is a glow-in-the-dark sticker

when awaited feelings come to life.

i talk to myself, wrong timing

i can see but. wrong timing

how dare i ask for perfect collision

if lights don't come through me

how dare i gasp for possible entering

if i drown the girl who plays with fire.

the wind is thin, i barely sense it

following the ashes 

the end of this path is near.

from my window i see

lights carved in other windows

it's past midnight

i push my hands in pockets

and rush my favorite bedford street

 

 

notes about bedford street