looking out over the empty streets. there is not much to see. the mist and the fog have risen out of the sea. though in his mind he can still see. all the dreams once made solid. all the dreams once made real. all of those buildings. dark and empty now. what was once a hub and a buzz. now just a shell of nothingness. all of the cars. it was once the dream. now just a memory in somebodys head. he pictures the broken glass. pictures the steam. he imagines the boats coming in. the talk in the harbour when the men returned. he pictures the soul of what was. now a forgotten bay with a big leak at the seam. lets take the boat out. until darkness comes. nowhere on the horison. only pale colours of green and grey. nothing in the suburbs. emptiness is the cold light of day. there in the midst of it so alive and alone. his words giving support to the thoughts rumbling inside his head. dreaming of empty streets. wear your inside out for them to see. dreaming. in her arms again. have they moved that sign around his heart. still dreaming. dreaming of her. pulling out the snap shot of her years ago. his heart skips. tugging at the darkness. beat upon beat. confession of all the secret things. to a priest. to a doctor. can they handle the shock. or should he just lie down in the warm velvet box. he trembles. he remembers kissing her lips. with her father out in his boat. riding the water. riding the waves on the sea. now it is empty. the streets. the harbour. his heart. his mind. only the secrets remain. out in the streets. they laugh at him. they tease him. his secrets. yes. secrets.
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