“Bye, Dad.”
Jazzy DiMeglio
An Excerpt From The City & A Mind
Gene Whipple
Finally, sunset. The glass of the skyscrapers, like a Fresnel lens, a shining beacon to the world, here is the descendent of
Babel, the epitome of humanity. From the ground the contrast between the city and the sun dissipates. All is bathed in
a light that cannot be described but only remembered. Each step down the sidewalk to that little café is a step through
hues of red, purple and gold upon the barren cement. The sun, almost always invisible behind the towers, makes itself
known in the reflections of every pane of glass. I skirt around the rush hour bus stop, and follow the light rail to its
end. Each slow step weaves between towers of light. Yet the towers themselves fade. Lights originating in some poor
drone’s overtime work pour from their hollow shells. Yet none defeat the darkness. Maybe just one more cig to light my
way.
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