Usually, they are pinpricks of light in the dark; tonight, they are halos of white in the mist.
The link-boys wait and warm their hands.
Angry voices cut through the mist ahead.
Argument crowds the air.
I can't make out the words,
but the feeling is strong and clear.
Adrenalin sends a pulse of static
over my scalp and down my spine.
Perhaps ten people, maybe more.
No outlines visible, but they sound so close.
The wall's rough comfort guides me on.
Two crouching shadows shift and mumble in a doorway.
Leaving the safety of the curb, I cross,
knees tensed for the slick treachery of the road,
hands ready to meet a new edge.
I reach out with fingers hungry for something
still and solid to follow.
I can see more dark ghosts now,
crowded into the cross roads,
A press of accusations and steamy outlines.
My ears ring with the rush of blood,
and the clang of metal on metal.
A dog bolts for cover, tail gaining on him,
under the rail and across the empty car park.
Breaking for the cover of the bridge
I follow his curved back
until it fades into the landscape.
The familiar rush of water reminds me to breathe
Searching, I find freedom.
Breathe the burn