6

Walking through this dream
Of streets
Lights
On fire

Staring up the daunting prism
Eighty-four stories high

Dissembled bicycles, garbage piled in
Heaps of yellow heavy light

Water in the vacant eye
Reflecting everything

You catch phrases from the corner
Spheres of endlessly opening streetcorners

Thinking of nothing but the glowing images made real beneath your eyelids
You relinquish your nightmares to the molecular air
And crawl up the wet stone stairs to the jungle on the rooftop
And ambulances pierce the cone of night