gone quiet all around me,
dim, shut-eyed windows all sleeping
with couples in their beds with
arms with legs
tangled hair all in a knot,
two people wrapped around cores of shining stars,
an entire universe of lovers on this quiet street...
Flicker
and glowing like lights through my
fingertips (touching fingertips),
the corona, chromosphere
expanding outwards from them in a halo of love,
like beacons
signal fires calling out to all those
like me
who are lost on city streets,
wondering why the best parts of themselves
are not enough to be loved
Their fires call
and I am not immune to the sound,
to all that glowing light
that casts me in the umbra of its impossible glow,
me,
this ghost,
wandering these city streets at night.
