i long for Nightfall to dropp her heavy curtain i find myself in the dwindling hours of the day cutting thru the darkness like a drunken knife past prophets and prostitutes that speckle the screaming sequin sidewalk the brightly coloured people; the neon sign chameleons ever seeking anonymity by blending into buildings and ducking under subways they all seek asylum in the jazz miasma that seeps from under doorways of the hidebound bars bodies crumpled like litter on the soggy street stars drip onto the crawling cars that narrowly miss the lumbering pedestrians that stumble in their stupor to find their way back home or someplace just as good
Be the first to comment