December 12

comments 7
poetry

Again, short days. What
else is there to say?

Besides all the things
a night can be: Clarity

of skyline, articulate
distance. I love the red

of WONDER BREAD, of CITY
LIGHT, old neon signs,

all heart. It’s no good
here in the thick of it,

LED bright and still
the ankle twists

to the gutter. A huddle
passes, soft people, shapes

only, the very power
of suggestion. And then

the street empties out,
except for all this incandescence–

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7 Comments

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