The tires slowly rolled
heavy under the
long black menacing frame
as it entered the alley
crushing pieces of glass
snapping like bones of
half life creatures
laying under fire escapes
and buzzing neon lights
that have more alive
than the thinned armed souls
leaning on walls for balance
as a curtain of humid
stagnant air
dimples the faces
of people arguing
while a door slams
and someone yells out
in pain or lust
and a cat scrambles
along a wall
while souls pass
locked doors
and others sit and smoke,
hiding but not hiding
in alley shadows
as the car rolls
past.
Roger Singer 