Oh city poet, with the steely eyes and the nu-buck coat— all collar-up guarded against the bleakness of the grey day! You ride the tram looking out into the world of sandstone sculpted civilization with a sigh on your lips.
I watched as your face lit up when another of your kind joined you on-board and how passionately you spoke of some garbled piece of information you learned from someone named Trisha. Your grey gaze fell upon the smiling face of your compatriot as he nodded in approval. You enthused and rallied your dear friend to agree to something quite shocking (from the look on his face). And you made him promise you faithfully that he would see it through. He got off two stops later and your face fell as you watched him trot off into the Lace Market. Your eyes went cold again and you morosely looked out into the austere day. You knew in your heart the promise would be broken.
My heart went out to you. Inside I wanted to weep.