Tomorrow's Saturday

I don't know whether to call this a messed up poem, poetic prose, stream of consciousness, or a drug trip. However, here are some thoughts on the night life in Mexico City. :-)

Tomorrow’s Saturday

The lights from houses on an opposing hillside

Twinkle through the polluted city air like fireflies

Gaudy strings of Christmas bulbs

Also try to mimic lightning bugs

But the busy, blaring colors of the former

Can’t hold a candle to the gentle pulsing glow of the latter

The city—a clanging cacophony by day—

Hums an improvised urban lullaby at night

It’s almost midnight, but the neighbors are still awake

In vacation mode after a month of holiday

And besides, tomorrow’s a Saturday

The churning sea of people that daily floods the city streets

Has been channeled into individual homes

Where everyone has a face, a name, and a joke

What contrast these lively dwellings now create

Against the deserted streets where a chilly night breeze blows

Dogs are barking from every rooftop,

Perhaps offended to be excluded from the merrymaking

Perhaps telling some jokes of their own—

It’s hard to say for sure.

As if in response, each nucleus turns up their music some,

Creating another layer of separation between them and the work-a-day outside world

And adding to the general joy of their own little kingdom

The TV is on like always

But like always it is only background noise

Dirty dishes are stacked on the counter with care

In the knowledge that tomorrow soon will be there

It’s 2:30 and only now are people starting to drift off to sleep,

Likely to wake up late

“But who cares,” they think, with a shrug and a grin,

“And next week we’ll surely do it again

“Tonight was worth it,” they sleepily say,

“And besides tomorrow’s Saturday.”