Fear is the last companion you have when you leave Gotham. You've always seen her around, but the timing wasn't right.
House sold, bags packed, in a hotel with nothing in your name but a car and a celly. All your friends in this 'burg were situational, so when they heard you were leaving, pretense faded. Your ego was disappointed, but the essential-self never looked back, like "Seeya Bitches and God bless!"
In a bar and later at a theater, I saw her; it was electric eye contact. Seemed like fate so the small talk was bold. We ended up in my hotel room using each other as a divine distraction.
She left her number on the dresser. I woke to the knocking of the cleaning lady - alone. Any dreams I had for myself in this town were left in a condom and flushed.
Driving with the visor down, I live on the horizon... And I left that number on the dresser.
photo: taken w/ iPhone 3Gs Hipstamatic app (Salvador 84, DreamCanvas)
