in parentheses

Nothing but night was in view. Night and all its bright, penetrating light, soaking straight through and scalding our eyes. Night with its hungry spirit, hoping to trade this small prize for that. Night and all its tragic youth whirling around and whizzing by like paper planes, looking for one another, looking to collide and missing it- the whole thing but we didn’t. Not with our arms banded together as we paved an American path through a foreign street, our hands locked in our pockets, our elbows strung together like paper chain links in blue, black and white. Not with our touristy eyes pried wide and perfectly peeled and watching everything, looking for every crack in every corner and still searching with eager fingers, digging deep into the concrete, our spines twitching and wincing from the friction like they would to the tortured scream of a nail on a chalkboard.