gummy bears et al, is the post dying diet.

the new art gallery opened, and all these beautiful strangers are crowded with each other, wandering, drinking mildly expensive wine, some sipping, because the art is so damn good and intricate. 

rugs. rugs, ornate and on walls, accented by the room, & a wall of tightly framed photos of foreign walks untouched by development. sepia lends depth, but so does the lone cat who owns an establishment more than any simian who makes his way in its silence. 

i am never sure, but maybe i never have to be. 
there's a sweet contentment to wandering evenings on quiet avenues. streets so firm beneath me as i am lost yet safe, the air is warm. there are lights in all the buildings and i am only a girl who meanders beneath them. windows and lamps, and though the night is here, there is a music that kisses me, first soft and surface, and i am tentative. 
then it kisses me deep, and i don't know what to say, so i don't, so it washes into me, right into where i've been waiting.