walking is still honest

I want you to know my creative mind
I want to speak to you in the tongues that reach me
I would love for you to understand, but have no romantic expectations
I want you to see beauty, hear it
the way I do
but not in my way
i want you to experience beauty
in your way
i just want you to feel that

is it fog or is it rain or mist
how could the bronx be so still
i am the only movement
walking up the middle of Decatur
cone shaped meta-prisms below street lamps
mark the length of the street
there is no one
from where it begins to where it ends
i'm just going to by ice cream
but now i want to see where it ends

and so i walk