Memories are odd companions...
Night falls quickly in the city… perpetual twilight
never quite reaching ominous corners and narrow lanes…
Echoes haunting alleys, crowded with
flickering shadow-forms and intermittent light –
- quickly falls the night…
Neon distortions mutate reality, what you see never looks the same
in morning glow or afternoon rain…
… the stoic city is a master of disguise -
Wise to never trust even your own eyes;
How is it too, that footfall’s hollow ring sounds close
yet furtive glance reveals hissing emptiness
or are they the echoes of restless ghosts
walking the shadowed streets?
From a one-room-bedsit above Mario’s Pizzeria, circa 1979
she peers with country eyes on sights which both
fascinate and suffocate… inspire and scandalize –
- do shadows move with mind-numbing stealth
where darkness overrides the darkness
flicker of eye-light-red-bright, winking down the lane…
neon intrusion drives her insane
no escape from it in this prison of a room
- sweet goddess of night, where are the stars… where is the moon…
she missed how the tree-song softly crooned
never quite reaching shadowed corners and
the broken promise that brought her here;
SharonleeGoodhand #Imageweaver.
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