Editor Christopher Writes – #PoemADayForAYear: 21/05/15

Damp fluorescent lights

drip pink onto the sidewalk

under a weeping moon.

Puddles refract reflections

into themselves, the street

a kaleidoscope under a polluted sky.

A steel door slams open.

The sound dances from wall to wall

and dies quickly, drowned by

fogged rainfall.

There are three slaps of old leather

against the concrete and then a crumple.

As the sun gropes its way over the horizon,

the body is found by a prostitute finishing up

for the night.

She reaches down and pulls his wallet

from his pocket, slipping the money into

a nearly-non-existent bra.

She pulls out a fifth of vodka and a lighter,

walks to a trash can and sets the wallet alight.

In this part of town, there are those that

know how to play the game.

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