There's...

There is nothing to see here—  
only placed stone and polite roofs.  
Only the gutter, slacked with rain,  
coughing, clearing its throat,  
hanging like a fractured jaw  
as its brackets go loose  
against the worn façade.  

There's nothing for me here;  
walls line up like sentences,  
all in the likeness of gray.  
I remember my tears again,  
and remember being alone.  
A stale hello practices a smile,  
rehearses brighter days,  
then softly looks away.  
I long for roads that went nowhere,  
where time could go astray;  
the quiet that once held me  
feels louder than these streets alone.  
I stand among the bought and sold,  
and feel the country near.  

Streetlamps blink in memory;  
a slow and distant sky.  
My footsteps count the hollow,  
each one step beyond I.  
A clock forgets the hours  
and leaves the room to wind.  
It inhales morning as light unspools  
across the floor; noon blinks twice  
and exhales “goodnight,”  
off to close the shutters.  
I lift the empty window  
"Hey, hey…
Close the windows.
Yes, just pull it down all the way…
In about four minutes after you close your eyes,
it’ll be bright as hell through there.
Another sunny day."