pumpkineater

5 am
is the best time of day. the frenetic pace of the night gives way to a brief lull, a moment of serenity, tranquility. reflection. the party music fades and the energy from the night is swept away, like paper confetti after new years even in times square. and then a deep breath as the grays of darkness give way to the warm colorful renewing of the sunrise. it is the moment between the night's obscenity and the day's insanity.

you catch paul revere making his stops at every corner store.
you catch mother trudging home in her nurses uniform returning from the graveyard shift, bracing for the fact that she must wake her children, feed them and send them off to school. suffering guilty abandonment eyes.
you catch the girl shuffling shamefully with a broken heel and missing button wondering what exactly happened the night before and if she should stop the nurse or go to the hospital.
you catch the bodega owner watering the plants and vegetables, putting the best pieces on top and putting the rotting sides down.
you catch the man in a business suit obsessed about the market he does not control, grimacing at the meaningless numbers that go up and down.
you catch the girl on the street corner trying to turn one last trick before she goes home to shower for hours, hoping to scrub the dirt she feels.
and you catch the woman walking her dog, just hoping he'd hurry up.

and you keep your head bowed and eyes lowered, as you wander the streets alone wondering why you were so lonely.