In the City
i saw him sit in darkness
but he refrained
from the final slip,
for the city was so
bright in the window and
light touched the sill like angel
fingers on his cheek, and he
desired the dainty dexterity
to touch him last. The cars,
little lights, living their lives,
lasting as long as the length
of their mechanisms permits.
I felt him feeling the fingers
of millions of lights,
blinking and flashing until
their fire fades finally.
In the reflection on
the window, he saw
a light;
he smiled,
Blinking, flashing,
and beaming
in the city.
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