my breath mingles with a bright white moon, on a cold winter night.
Cold Moon [Haiku]
1
Trains are done running.
Shops are shuttered,
except in the red-light districts
where the neon circuits burn.
Food carts are set up
under streetlamps,
sending out plumes of
fried food & grilled meat aroma.
Plumes meant to catch drunken strollers
looking for an affordable bad idea.
Tonight, the city accommodates all,
finding a bad idea to
fit each price range.
It's dark. But the neon burns, and bright signs color the night, and that color shines against wet surfaces. The color seems to float, and when I walk past it shifts, morphs, and flows, becoming alive. And it -- those bright primary colors -- might just be creeping towards me like a killer kindergarten clown. I turn to see the colors swirling, swirling but not advancing. I stare into the color paisleys as they dance yin-yang do-si-do's around the puddle. I'm entranced & soothed, and no longer fear the colors will attack, turning me vibrant.

