The TV man says 'Tonight's the night'

And a buzzing grey static screen follows

I know it's either a million meteors disintegrating and waltzing their way here

Or a pulsar map ,read and understood

I step out to watch the sky

A Monet painting spilling colours

I squint eyes and pretend it's an avant garde aurora

That if I capture that indigo teal with my Fujifilm

I'll have enough time to print a copy.

Today 'For a better tomorrow ' billboards look Luna Lovegood kind of sane

While dim holiday lights try to tug an ebbing winter solstice close

Someone said it would be a rush hour hysteria

That the Himalayas will scrape its frost bitten kneecaps when the volatile Pacific will spill its troubled waters while still fostering a richter ten earthquake underneath.That time will be a pretentious pendulum swinging from fire to flood with the timelapse of a landslide in between .

Sirens don't scream but I can tell 'Tonight's the night' so I let the asphalt of this narrow alley lead me to streets draped in cosplay costumes even vanity mirrors can't do justice to in mere reflections.The hem of this pavement is unfolding but it's beautiful and if you look straight at its shabby sidewalk you can see pent-up stories(once folklores) crawling out like fireflies from a broken mason jar.

A warfare is unraveling.

Shall I head home ?

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