by Davian Aw

we walk down empty streets with naught

but inanimate life, driverless cars flashing

headlights to warn and uncover and glint

momentarily off the wet sheen on the side

of a robotic trash can, turning round and round

in the perverse solo dance of malfunction

with grasping claws that catch only air

all around it rains the dream rain, slowing

to a glowing suspension of water threads

before hideaway alleyways, dark open portals

that might still have people within them,

mere ghosts of consciousness that flit and worry

a plane apart, unreachable

in this forever night, time has run its course

to leave us be with noontime stars

and echoing images of our pasts;

the reckless youths we used to be

speed out an alley, laughing—

wheels crush newspapers, crackling leaves

outriding the stars and searching streetlights

to corners where darkness still reigns

and no one will find them

for they are the only ones left.

remember that time when there was time

unravelling in persistent linearity

and we thought we could lose ourselves

and still find our way back home;

we are the only ones left.

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