Final Days - 2

I keep this "secretly/desirably" simple (make everything in past tense):

I break into the fragile snowflakes as I pass the same dodgy
mate in all his glory. I admire his reddish socks, adoring
the feather on his beige chapeau. Who bloody cares about
tonight's full eclipse? I still worship the virgin moon
as I wander under it with scattered thoughts. I stumble
along, growling and shaking. I'm lost. I'm found. I
repeat, "but I don't feel down." My companion tonight
is the taxi driver from Ghana. His random smile,
his ring tone, melt my hijacked heart; rescue
me from the nonsense terms that translate
into what we both learnt as lies.
Impatient, fearless, intoxicated;
I play tonight's song, and smile
big at our (long) overdue
yet predictable

To be continued...