Lights

I lay back in the grass. It was dark. There were no streetlights, but the winking firefly lights were better than any manufactured comfort. We see the stars better at night, but too many people are afraid of the dark. I love city and its vibe, and urban planners and architects, but they don’t design dwellings and surroundings to exist in the natural night darkness . Light pollution, it’s happening, some complain of this modern convenience. I think it’s a distraction.
The damp grass was not distracting, however, nor was the slight hum of mosquitoes. I was present. They don’t bite me, I told you, later, as you confirmed they were indeed feasting on your self. The next morning there was a telltale rose-colored circle, raised and alone on my ankle. I haven’t received any more mosquito bites yet, this summer, but there’s still time. There’s still time for everything.
Last summer I walked through industrial cityscapes and the only winking I observed were the streetlights which, on occasion, would go out right above my head. This was a signal from energy fields and forces no longer in human form. They were more soothing out than on. This action meant something. This action was a connection. I watched the slightly distant city lights blink in a zoeotropic fashion when I took the neon subway home, but this was just the unsympathetic motion of old trains, of sometime speed. A city of eight million people, and I had never felt more chilled or alone.
Now we sit, together, in these warm evenings, and simply look around at the fireflies like Christmas lights everywhere. There was one trapped inside your car the other morning, still awake and groggy, no longer letting its light beams burst. With the bright daylight, there was no need for this beacon, this natural streetlight in the dark, which is as welcome and as authentic  as your hand in mine and so much more comforting than the artificial glares that kept me awake last year.

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