Walking, talking
Light shining
City sounds
Join the conversation
But has nothing much to say
A security worker sits on a bench
And seems to ponder life
Others lay, sit
On the grass
In the coolest heat of the night
I move closer to my abode
I step the first stair
Spotlights for my feet
I guess its what the city does
Now the skyline clearer
City still talking air
But far from still
Blue and light reflections
Upon each other
As a man puffs his cigarette
I open the door
There's trouble
Who knows who I could be?
I call the lift
She answers right away
And now I wait and speak again
29th floor, I move closer
The cool breeze
Of the air conditioning
I slowly make my way to the door
So I can finish this poem
If you can call it that
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