in the glow of lonely streetlights,
tallying seconds in swarms of smoke,
stretched along plastic firmaments,
until a bright consummate day
will blow wide the windows
of my solitude cocoon.
The breeze hints of her footsteps,
as I revel in the barren distances of crowds;
come visit, image traced in sullen red,
from an electric alcove -
shielding meager ties,
while I remember years of eternities,
countdown to an apocalypse of sleep,
the gray comfort of being a master
of a cold, nothing night,
seconds tallied in swarms of smoke
and the glow of lonely streetlights
in which the world whirls by.
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