The Gravity of the Night

Its late –
late after 4 A.M. and
I'm inside,
inside myself
and I think to myself:
I want to be pure,
to master my own personal vertigo.
And I am drawn,
drawn outside
by the gravity of the night.

I grab my skateboard and head out,
out towards the street.
The air is cool -- like natural air conditioning
the asphalt smooth, cold and hard.

Freedom _______________ if it exists
____ ______ is here.

Pumping down avenues
that will be clogged with traffic in just a few hours:
All four wheels tracking independently
like some finely tuned German suspension system.

Down,
_______________ Down,
______________________________ Down...

Down hills never before ridden.

Faster,
_______________ Faster,
______________________________ Faster...

Flying over pot holes in a projectile motion –
I feel my board lift up and down as it
hydroplanes over unseen puddles

and all that matters is action and reaction.

Faster,
_______________ Faster,
______________________________ Faster...

In a Sensory Overload
parked cars on the side of the road merge
into one long mass of meaningless metal,
streetlights overhead
turn into two permanent bars of light
like tracking lanes for some ancient outer space vehicle.

And I realize
it is the streetlights that have drawn me outside,
outside myself.

Streetlights that hang with a gravity all their own
and I want to skate

Down,
_______________ Down,
______________________________ Down...

Down into them.

Into the streetlights.
Into the gravity of the night.

by T. J. Richter

© September 17, 1986 Theodore J. Richter

(This writing was later poetically gene-spliced into In the City, click here to see it.)