Back street

West coast

Moon raising alabaster all around us

Gates, gates,

Open to the street and permit

Flowing spirit and

Cool dark and

Crazed enticements and

Questions, questions

Begin to swirl

To dance;

No light,

No time to know

Who they are and how they are and

How to feel or why

No music for this moment

Yet exists.

Just stars and heat and empty streets

And shimmering.



And mystified

As to why we are here again

Or at all.