I am walking in the shadows.
I am revisiting old haunts.
I sit alone
in diners
under full moons.
I wear the trench coat
and a blank face.
I seek to be mysterious,
though many could easily predict my next move.

I am living in tropes.
I walk, hunched,
a cliche.
Echoing my footsteps
is a soundtrack of lonely saxophone,
sad jazz accompaniment
through empty streets.

I am searching,
investigating something I cannot completely explain.
I am alone,
questing down darkened alleys
hoping to find something past midnight,
anything worth eating.