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
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.