tikk tikk

The branches are bare, the sky tonight a milky violet. There is no one else around.

Autumn came on time, but winter arrived with a ferocity that hasn't even allowed the fallen leaves to lose their sheen. Slush and dead leaves, a dark grey mixed with a vibrant orange. Its a beautiful combination, if for nothing else then because it rarely happens.

I huddle beneath a tree, shielding myself from a light breeze, coaxing my lighter into conforming to my needs. Sometimes it listens, sometimes it doesn't.

A thin layer of ice covers the ground beneath my feet, meaning that relieving the pain in one leg by shifting to the other is a dangerous job. Groins don't like to be pulled, especially when there is no friction at all, I chuckle to myself halfheartedly.

A car drives by, its lights momentarily glittering up the puddles of water, and brightening up the fluorescent-ish dead leaves strewn about in disorganized harmony.

The music thumping in my ears takes me away from this scene. It doesn't fit the mood, too loud, too brash for this moment. I maneuver myself for a few minutes and flip the track to a slow Roy Hargrove piece. But when I look up again, its as if the music had nothing to do with it, the mood is just enhh...

I give the lighter one more go, tikk tikk. I ash the pipe when the lighter fails me yet again, shoving both into my jacket pocket. I walk home slowly. I tell myself I'll give it another go at some point tonight, maybe at home, with a better lighter and fresh dry bowl in hand.

(The first line of this piece is also the first line of Vikram Seth's brilliant novel, An Equal Music)