The Smog Bomb

This haziness. I'm not sure about her. She comes out of the not too distant muffled light. This place is fairly intriguing at the best of times, but it's like someone has pulled down some mysterious curtain and shrouded many of these days in curiosity. Like the optician dropped one of those filters into the giant metal frames and everything took on a totally different look. The music still forces its way through the haze, fills the ears all the same, as it ever did. It sounds so glorious at times, like it has been sent to deliver me to some superior place. To lift me from the gloom, from the smog bomb that clouds the heart at times. The end of the week and I can smile and I can turn to Rubik, and finally I gave him his dues. What a beautiful creature. Just like her, and her, and her. Swimming all of us, ever we go. We find our way through everything, together, even when we are apart.