The wires above the electric bus
sing and flash in the evening sky;
passengers read their papers
talk anonymously among themselves.
The bearded man in the shop doorway
lifts his hat as a woman passes
and she lends him a temporary smile
pure enough for me to envy.
This is the boulevard where insomniatic cars
sleepwalk past the all-night windows,
filled with their mists of quiet light.
The young girls standing on the sidewalk,
the boys in their sleeveless shirts,
the businessmen arriving from work
staring at the ground, dragging their suitcases
are all here to celebrate the nocturnal.
The garrish sun is in a state of slumber.
We should raise high our cups
Offer our tired hands to
that lovely lady standing near the street sign.
Even the bell boy at the cinema door is
inebriated with the pungent odor of
this landscape under the stars;
this panorama in plain view
from that parapet where the
cat the color of rain
is sitting many stories up
on that fine building.
© 2017 Fin