A door slams with a rattle into night.

Footsteps pass. The sound of a stranger.

A face unknown.

The high tide of whiskey and smoke

soaks the shorelines of sidewalks

As a city lowers its night curtains.

Tipped hats and high coat collars

wade the flow through streams

of streets.

Street lights. Fallen stars. Harbors of

cheap light on gum stained concrete skin.

A voice. A whisper. A half shadow,

part gray part black, prefers the without,

hiding in the color where it lives.


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