feet shuffle by. nice suit complete with nice shoes. shiny. thought process, itemized:

1. Nice shoes.
2. Awkward gait.
3. Drunk?
4. Or merely new shoes?

from my vantage, the latter seems the most plausible, though from my vantage the sky is very far, the sidewalk very near. cold. not sure how long i've been here, but the shoes are a clue. they have meaning. thoughts begin to form. vague visions as words, words as visions of watchces, spinning hands. hands cradling fistsful of water. visions losing clarity, a flash of white, followed by dark. followed by very cold.

from my vantage, there is only the sidewalk and the gentleman lying next to me. he is staring at his shoes, now covered in his own vomit. it would appear that my hypothesis was incorrect. he does not blink, or breathe, and i consider taking action. action. what is action? action is doing, to do. and currently, nothing can be done. not from where i am un(der)standing.

from my vantage there is the pool of vomit and a river of urine from an individual relieving himself on the building behind me. the first is still staring at his shoes. there was somewhere i needed to go. before. somewhere before i got (here). consider running through my options. options. are things that i can do. do is an action. a fly is zipped. for a moment, clarity, and the resulting questions:

1. Where?
2. How?
3. Why?

i recall there being several others, not particularly interesting, or useful in this situation. therefore ignored. consider discovering options, followed by the discovery of a distinct lack thereof. consider action, without appropriate motivation. failure and darkness. for the last time.