Posts Tagged ‘day’

The light that reveals
is blinding.
The reflection in the glass
conceals a hive of
workers dreading every 9
and clinging to every 5.

The homeless man wears
shades because
he is either blind
or pretending, but
at this hour
when the sun crests
over the tallest talls
he is all the better.

The sad droning of an
idle car exhales exhaust.
It is late and tired.
Its bumper stickers
are outdated political
statements and smug
declaration more
befitting an ignorant
college student than
a suit and tie.

At night this is hidden
and the nocturnals
spread incandescent wings –
a more gentle light
that only reveals
a select area
and conceals the rest
by contrast.
I usually smoke
my cigarettes
with the boys outside
so the whaling saxophonist
is less tempting.

I look forward to rain soaked days
where blues are smeared
with pinks in the omnipresent
reflective puddles tucked neatly
beside the curb like a child
in bed. It is too dry and hot
in this light. My clothes
cling like a new skin on me.

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