corrupted in the dark
mixed with the light
of strangers
hurried feet
step by step on pavement—
and the dirt is deep
as little by little
they mark their souls
organism of souls
who have their moment
and sink back down
to dark oblivion
steam in the streets
with century old pipes bursting—
dreams of the riders
new as the city is old
dark and still
the buildings watch
the empty streets below
as people gather
in windows, unaware
soon there is a chorus
(one life is not enough)—
the flap of wings in the morning
and the crumbs cast off
by those old and alone
there were bodies
many bodies
above, below the streets
and all were once with the city
all were once as one
wind howled
through marked up canyons—
we braced ourselves
and howled back
courtyards and roof decks—
places where we met
and drank our secret thoughts
in the nooks
where no one could see
musicians wander
somewhere leaving notes
around the corners
where it is empty
as the night
day divides
the bold into pieces
wrapped in curtains
closed to strangers
she came down the stairs
hurried as someone left behind
children laughed
running as she walked—
around the corner
and gone forever