For the town,
It was a park.
Two slides, benches, plenty of trees, skate park… the usual,
But for him, it was his place:
A garden of memories of all kinds,
Love, laughter, new experiences, sadness, stress, anger, peace,
With new friends, new relationships,
All of this as he looked from up top,
Overseeing the galaxy of red, yellow, and white lights,
Some still, some flickering,
Some lit up the roads and some lit up the names of buildings,
They lit up his mind, his spirit.
On some days, he was happy, running and joking,
Floating and smiling and loving his life,
In the haze that covered the view completely,
Sometimes his head on someone’s shoulder,
Sometimes his lips touching someone’s,
Sometimes he slid down on the long, cold,
Concrete slide on pieces of cardboard,
It felt like he was about to fly into that incandescent galaxy of lights,
And drown in it to absorb its life.
The energy he craved to keep going.
Sometimes he just sat and reflected on his life,
On a bench with someone,
In the car with someone,
On the brick wall with someone,
Looking up at the sky,
Trying to perceive the stars that did not seem to exist,
The fault of the artificial stars,
Sometimes talking about his fears,
Or his deepest secrets,
Or sometimes hearing his breathing,
And feeling his cold heart slowly punching,
Is all he needed to feel tranquil,
In this life,
One so complex, for he knew,
That there were things he wanted to change,
Situations he had to resolve,
Experiences about to begin,
And things he had to end.
Having the best view in town,
His vision blurred into his peripheral vision,
The buildings far off transporting his mind to his past,
And his senses when intensified,
His emotions that when present,
Too potent taking over his sanity,
Transported him to the future.
It was more than escaping noise, responsibilities, thoughts,
More than the top of the mountain he needed when at his lowest,
More than where to fill his lungs to their maximum,
More than where to find reasons that will bring him back,
To this place,
Whether good or bad.
The drive, therapeutic, relaxing, or enjoyable,
Perhaps he would speed or slow down to observe the lights,
Each serving a specific and unique purpose,
Just like every experience that made him go there,
And every small change that occurred as he drove away,
Back to the World,
To the present’s ever-changing and unpredictable nature.
He never saw it as a park.