DERIVE
It was very late at night and
I was walking the poorly lit path bordered by trees
that I walk when I’m restless
and I want to escape the loneliness of my room.
I had left the blaring signs of the shopping centers
and their smell of fried food,
the sight of the golden city lights,
on a dark canvas of running blue and green.
The trees congregated along the sidewalk
to form a dark stripe
and a place for animals.
Squirrels, birds,
the branches were rustling
when I walked by sometimes,
too often to make the noises scary.
Street lamps were evenly scattered
on the side of the road,
their attempt to light my way was futile
but it didn't matter because
there is nothing to see really on this path.
I was not thinking about how much more I was going to walk,
I just wanted to walk off my obsessions
and suddenly I was walking streets with no name
feeling even further away from home,
feeling the distance,
the ocean between this continent
and the one where my home stands,
too far to smell the breeze
but at once all I missed came hitting me like wave.
My friends, the way they talk when they want to be funny
my mother's foodthese words which don't make sense here
even when they are disguised in an English costume,
taking walks alone but in my neighborhood.
This is a token of home, a parody.
And it is not funny.
The bushy side of the sidewalk
punched with holes of clarity reeled by
forming a theater-size screen showing nothing
but the picture of loneliness.
A car roared by,
a bubble of light made of steel and glass
and I saw the face of its driver staring,
emotionless,
a still picture of him
with his two hands on the wheel,
in a transparent frame.
Was he going home or was he escaping it?
It felt like a sign of hope
just like when a UFO lands on a crop field
and proves we're not alone in the universe
but then I thought of myself
in front of my computer screen
opening empty email inboxes many times a day,
recalling words said by ex-girlfriends,
whole paragraphs which don't make sense.
I looked down,
the gray squares of concrete succeeded under my feet
as the Masonite tiles
of an emergency hall would
and the slits became impossible to walk on.
I tripped on a square edge
my eyes focused and I saw a parking officer
walking around his booth,
he readjusted his beige uniform
as I approached and my words broke the silence:
“Good evening,”
he replied and asked me some questions about myself,
where I came from.
We talked a little more since
at this hour no cars need to park
and when the silence settled he turned around.
