Stranger

[Master.America]

Let me know what you think.

The streets seemed lifeless, the city dark. A man came from the shadows, his face hidden beneath a black fedora under the stale light emanating the streetlamps. His feet carried him at a steady, laid back tempo as he strolled down the street. Despite the hour of the night, his presence seemed to sink into the setting, making it all the more fitting. A vehicle approached from ahead. It was a peace officer making his regular rounds. Ready for some action, he slowly brought his vehicle to a halt before the stranger.
"It's Sunday night, the city's dead. You on your way home?" The officer noticed a boxy shape on the stranger's back. The stranger, his face still cast beneath the shady visage of the dark, stopped. His face turned somewhat toward the officer, yet he said nothing. The streetlight across from the stranger, nearest the officer, began to blink. Even the streetlights were tired.
"You know, most people have jobs to go to in the morning," suggested the officer. Still, the man was silent and motionless. The officer, still safe within the confines of his vehicle, leaned in to see the stranger's face, but to no avail.
"who are you?"
"Who am I, you ask?" The figure seemed to speak directly toward the officer. His voice, though passive, pierced the strong, cold air. "I am the embodiment of all that I encounter. I am everyone I have met, I am everything I have done, and I am everything I aspire to be. My body has been molded by the city I live in, my soul hardened by the pain I've endured, my scarred heart strengthened by the experience I've earned from those I once loved. I am one whose life changes as often as the moon ebbs and flows. I don't march to the beat of the drum; rather, I groove to Earth's own melodies and harmonies. I am what I eat, what I wear, and who I choose to spend my time with. I am walking in circles, circles, always in circles. I am not a liar. But do know this, sir," said the man, finally stepping toward the officer's vehicle and out of the shadow. His face seemed hardened, yet still passive. "Most people don't have jobs to go to in the morning. Some of us are virtually nocturnal, living meal to meal, working only to keep life in rhythm. We live here, but we don't live anywhere; we love everyone, but keep no one; we exist in all eyes, but are seen by none."
"who..." The officer was bewildered. The man turned his gaze back to his path.
"Me? I'm with the band."