before II

I was walking on a sidewalk filled with old city cracks. Cracks invaded by weeds. Cement chipped away, shedding its strength. No streetlights warmed the avenue, so the moonlight gave the grey buildings an ancient Bastille-like strength. Their igneous greyness was streaked with the tropical sweat of the rainstorm, like some obese Roman, fat hiding muscle, sweating in a bathhouse.

            Up ahead, along the street, a light came on, pouring its light into the night. I was drawn to that green glow. I imagined it was reflecting off plants before finding its way into the night. I quickened my pace.