bright lights

red and white

flash on

off

nonstop

they bounce from stop sign

to road line

reflected back to my nighttime eyes

ears thirst for drunken burst

of up/down horns

like Miles Davis’ trumpet mourn

an uneven sing-song

dissident and wrong

but right, just the same

and in the darkness

in all this chaotic fineness

people call out for a caring hand

a soul to understand

 

so, we go

 

 

anthony forrest