Red plays along the seams of the night's silence
Loves, like angry winds, scatter
through the city's cement bodies
leaving bitter trails of loss.

Running eyes, looking for the moon
and the woman underneath it.
You always see her when she has
someone else in her eyes.

Farther out into solitude, men find out
that they are not made of stone
and that real gold is light like a butterfly's wing.

Allys cuddle with buildings. Streets dance
to quiet footstep symphonies.

Red plays along the seams
of the night's silence. And the sea
sends out a thousand empty hands
full of fresh salt
for old wounds