Night Walker

Tonight I have a head full of shadows from the weekend - too many cocktails and too little courage, vanishing cats and odd reunions - so tonight I walk. I feel far more comfortable walking at night than I ever could during the day - I am anonymous, cushioned and protected by the dark, and the cold air washes over me like a bath. I am close to the city but still I can see the stars. It's dinnertime, and there's a gentle waft of grilling sausages. I follow an episode of 'Frasier' from house to house. I climb a hill that will seem impossibly steep from the bus tomorrow morning, but now, when I can see only from streetlight to streetlight, I slap one sneaker in front of the other until I reach the top. A boy gets off a bus and we walk awkwardly in step for a minute, speeding up and slowing down together until I give up and let him go ahead. A couple standing by a parked car wait until I have passed to kiss. In the end, all I hear is my heartbeat and the thump of my feet on the bitumen. I come back through my gate still confused, still restless, but I love the evening, and for tonight that's enough.