Listen: See those rosy reddish wisps,
wafting shapelessly in some summer's swansong.
Asea as aimless
Rem'nants of exhalation.
See familiar figures.
Silhouetted steel streetlights seem strangely sad.
Forlorn e'en ghosts bowing heavy heads.
Carrying some human shame manifest.
Casting an artificial, lifeless, pale gaze,
as we commute below.
Here in suburbia.
This dismal sprawl of marching urbanity.
Here horizons become more concrete;
Squarish sedimentary frames.
The wisps are gone.