Car lights pass below on the street.
Bloated twisted images spread shadowed
alien figures onto building corners,
peppering them onto flowered
wall paper in my room,
laying them flat with quiet colors.
Tires hum grand and black, forming
voices from the motion of speed on pavement.
Red lights make for angry stops.
Engines battle for running; neon lights
ask for company and just one drink.
The wisdom of day is lost on the foolishness
of night. Hearts weak for compassion
welcome sidewalk shadows.
A car door signals an in and out.
Tires hum forward.
Roger Singer 