The whir of the open air dances through the window. Lights tickle the sky, scattered from street to car to building. The engine hums under foot and the stereo tells me to ‘sing like you think no one’s listening’. It feels like something I can never quite escape. And maybe I don’t want to.
There’s nowhere to go, really, but it doesn’t much matter. Not when the warm air hugs the back of my neck. Not when the energy of night is simply alive.
An arm drifts out the window to let the wind brush down fickle hairs. Bats swoop by to fill their bellies with the ample supply of mosquitoes above the Colorado River. They fly by the thousands, millions, feigning their blind bat eyes for screeching echoes. Fling a rock into the light and watch them dive, but they always pull up in time.
A kid on a bicycle paces his own private lane in clothes bright enough to resemble a far off star. A police car flashes its reds and blues behind a black Toyota and I hope they find nothing wrong in there.
The thick and sweaty night drives me as much as my foot and arm. Still, there is nowhere to go, but the fireflies of commerce illuminate my vagrant voyage. One day the open road will be too much to ignore. One day it will be time to just go. Leave it all and go. Let the whole sad scene disappear in the rear view. No goodbyes, no final beers with friends, just gone.
But that night is not yet here. I swing the wheel left, then right and find a familiar road to lead me back to where I started. For now, at least, this is where I belong.