Friday Night
Cedar Street
black glass
tarmac
neon halos
in pooling rain
the flick of
traffic lights
those
hanging stars
beacons
to the
lonely hearts of the town
the street
corner clowns
with money
for a loving.
The easy
downs
lip stick
kisses blown.
Filling
their bodies.
The smell of
animals on the back seat.
Animals in
the park.
Parking bay
lovers.
Some nights
are quick
Some nights
are hit
with the
smack in the vein
wet wipes in
the purse.
There no
romance to a tarmac bed.
or a dollar bill
laid avenue
smile.
Bronzeville at Night -- Archibald J Jr Motley
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