neon shadows beneath fluorescent breath

i just wandered into a diner where the coffee tasted like static. the sun bled through windows rippling like broken glass. near there, some blurry image caught my eye-a photo of a café with too many mirrors. i ran down an alley spilling text on walls i didn’t know I owned. neighbors pass like shadows, laughing too loudly. someone whispered something about the price of light. some mention i heard, others deny. the streetlamp flickered, casting long lines i couldn’t trace. i bought a bag of stale pastries, hope the clock’s hands were wrong. maps hummed beneath my feet, directions blurring. some say the city eats buyers whole. i smiled, thinking maybe i’m just here for the view.

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