Downtown, This Midnight is Like Wine

the moon is a silver jaguar
the clouds are the grout in a thousand busted midnights
the busses are punk low riding
the light is a taint
the concrete is blood
the banks are slight
the yards aren’t here
the glass could be falling by morning
the hustlers are cooing
the women are coding
the men are fisting
the kids are slumming
the big boys aren’t winning
the dogs are humping
the rastas have gone
the orphans are failing
the asses are tightening
the deal is made
the switchblades are checked
the poets are stroking
the suits are cigaretting
the dealers are chewing
the hedonists aren’t safe
the mallbirds are sale-ing
the city hall pool is blue
the Chinese library is awash in orange
the Christmas lights are dead
the procession is happening
the guitars are jangling
the songs are written
the saxophones are pouring
the dark is happening
the glass is tipped
the drunks are singing
the key is release
the midnight is burgundy

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