A Lonely Mind …

There’s a war in Vietnam; a racial riot in Philadelphia, Mississippi; de Gaulle’s in the Soviet Union; the President’s daughter is off to Spain. The eternal flame on John Fitzgerald Kennedy’s grave burns on.

You’re alone, two thousand three hundred miles from home. Cigarette smoke curls slowly upward, twisting, turning, curling, vanishing. Dew drops slide slowly down the outside of your drink.

Your mind wanders with the soft sounds of Goodman, Hartman and Cole Porter, floating in the cool breeze of the night. Above the twinkling of a star; below, the laughter and mumbled, blurred sound of words spoken softly.

One lone neon light, constantly blinking on and off, eternally. In the distance a pattern of lights of the night, burning in the darkness. Across the street, an open curtain, a light, and a card game. One single screaming siren passes through the city into nowhere.

A bus turns the corner, stops; a couple departs and it whines off into the night. A soft murmur, a warm embrace, a gentle kiss, and into the darkness they disappear. All’s quiet.

Another hour and a new day begins. Just another day for many, but another year for you. Where are you? Where are you going? Where have you been? Who are you? Does anybody really care? Do you?

You drink. Why? To forget? Not really. You always have to come back to reality. You smoke. Why? You know it’s supposed to cause cancer.

You can’t stay in one place; always have to be on the move. Walking, riding, dreaming, dancing. You love to dance. It’s another world where you can forget, but you always have to return … back to this dirty, lonely world of reality.

Just thirty minutes to a new day; maybe a new life; maybe a new face. Thirty minutes is a long time when you’re alone. The world was made in seven days; man can destroy it in seven seconds. Death comes quickly, often without warning.

A falling star streaks downward, slowly disintegrating. Good luck, or did someone die? It’s said to mean both. What does it have in store for you?

The smoke no longer rises. The drops and streaks on your glass have long since dried. The twinkling of the star covered by a cloud. The card game long since ended. The soft sounds of music now faded.

All these have given way to the new day, just beginning … and so do you.

[Editors Note: Las Vegas, NV, 25 Jun 1968]