A portrait of a young woman on a night like this

I am sitting, thinking nothing at all
in a place I will find myself more than once this semester
in the bottom of a building filled with people
most of whom I will never truly  know besides a sideways glance or a smile

Is this my home? I don't know, nor do I care for the moment,
I am living the life of someone I know only through her song
in a language I only know by a set of trivial circumstances

Her voice whistles and bristles and wanes and wails
with a vibrato that never quits
a big band background that transports me to the rues that I will never visit
It's the fault of the piano, and the accordion and the imaginary night sky that I am removed from in this castle of wire-driven enterprise

I wonder if life will be like this movie in my mind.
I wonder if I imagine everything around me
and I wonder if the complex algorithms that make me myself can ever be cracked or derived or reduced into a simpler form
But I am small; I am nothing at all; the illusion of importance gives me light and it allows me to become bigger than myself.

Maybe it is a crazy joke, by Dieu or some other heavenly entity...
and maybe they watch me on TV
and maybe I am their cartoons
and maybe they live in a 5 dimensions that my human mind cannot comprend
and maybe that's all right
because there is no such thing as a tesseract.