A try at it ...

So here's a try at my more lyrical writing ... please do not judge. :)

I walked into the middle of the street. It was nearly 1 a.m. and the neighborhood was still in the summer heat. From a distance, I could hear the hum of the expressway, the occasional rattle of the elevated train. Up close, all I could hear was the buzz of the street light.
I took a deep breath of the slightly stale humidity. I took slow steps, looking down at the cracked street. I could picture the faces from a few hours prior: young couples on the street, a lonely parking garage attendant, an elderly grocery store cashier. I could see the red glow that the buildings radiated as I drove in, illuminated in the setting sun. I could see the sky progress from light to dark as I sped along the expressway, growing closer and closer to the destination of all destinations—the city.
Why are we drawn to it? Why do we feel the need to live so close to other human beings? What about the tight streets, the constant hum, the physicality of bodies makes us feel more alive? Why are these metropolises the beacons of civilization, highlighting all that is grandiose and all that is deplorable?
I entered my car and rolled down the windows. Taking a deep breath, once again, I knew that I was alone now and I would be alone for the rest of the drive home. But for some reason I wanted to be cradled by the city, held it all that it knew. It tasted of promise, of struggle and of all I desired in life—and all I feared. I wanted the dichotomy and the parallelism tonight, the hurt coupled with the affection.
I drove along the deserted avenues—it was a Sunday night and all were sleeping, save for a few taxi cabs trolling the streets.
It was me, the streets and the lights.
It was what I wanted.