Nine in the night,
people on the streets,
hands in hands, arms linking
on a Friday night.
Cocktails in hand, beer in tower,
both locals and foreigners alike frequent the river.
Murky water, alcoholic vapours,
the Turkish ice cream man continues tricking his patrons.
Music blaring, the top hits, DJ playing, sometimes in a trance.
Skimpy skirt, heels, and low cut dresses,
cigarette in hand, put it to their velvet lips,
Off the streets, boy on his own. At the bus stop, waiting for his next ride.
Can’t keep up with the news on the net,
seizing every moment of it, scrolling through the web.
Not noticing the people who pass by, or maybe just looking up enough,
to spot a hot lady passing by.
Girl, alone. T-shirt, sport pants and canvas shoe.
A blade of grass among the flowers.
This modern society, she wonders.
Dubious men and vendors.
All not heading home to sleep,
to accompany the family they keep.
Girl. Heading home. Busses whir past,
the traffic never stops
throughout all these affairs.
Nine in the night, she watches still
she will never really be at home.