Overcast

The clouds have enveloped the sky and the car is gone
and dusk has laid its veil over the city since dawn
the bright colors of walls and bodies pop out against the air gray
from smoke and gray from infinitesimal droplets
that make your hair grow wild.

You dreamed about it last night, that thing you fear
the unfinished business you thought was finished for years
but the residue sat like moss on the pebbles at that place you feel
inside your head when you cross your eyes
and the smell of skin and yeast and the texture of pleasure, awareness
fermented for some time before the sixth chakra opened
and gave you a taste of what was brewing.

The cobblestones are slimy and putting one treacherous foot
in front of the other requires attention
and your focus is lost somewhere between regret and relief
nostalgia and abnegation
the past and a future potentially
void of desire.