I’m hunting the teen by following her posts.
phone cam pics of landmarks, geotagging, comments and statuses.
roundabout on the double decker bus that goes nowhere to somewhere, I’m back to the same stop again.
Passing parade squares, central business districts, recurring lunch hours, after work buildings suffering from a deprivation of people
Roadways by forests. Japanese basement malls.
Her latest picture is of ramen.
Her small black dress.
Her friend in denims.
A black bar top.
Expecting intelligence, I am disappointed.
She is mediocre. Small and foxy, but dimmed by device capture. Something is stealing her mind in fractions, pocketing time from her futures, eroding emotion, blurred articulation.
We can hardly hold a conversation.
I know I can’t bring her home.
We leave together when a teenage pretty boy arrives in his adult shirt and pants.
Is it the end of this world or the coming of New Year’s Day?
Where is the ballroom party?
The open air carpark is dark with night celebrations. The boy and the two girls are in his shiny gloss black car, window rolled down, bidding goodbye.
I take the bus.
Circling through the history of routes,
arriving, departing, the same place again.
A lanky boy breaks off from the group, strays from night path into the forest. He is replaced by a replica of himself, silver clothes, glitter in aura, stepping back onto the path.
His friends do not notice the anomaly but the lone streetlight exposes the reality to me.