white noise blankets the silence;
blackness shadows the times.
and out from the center,
in the stillness of solitude,
the soul resounds.
I live like a city rat:
I come out at night,
I ignore the stoplights,
and I’m not trying to be trite,
but sometimes I may bite.
Admiring the dead trees who, like me, aren’t old
Smoking like a chimney to beat the cold
Buildings conquer the nighttime,
Their light makes one bold.