snapshots

call the lights,
angle them bright,
capture the color
and hold it tight
. . .
the womb of artifice
tunnels into
the bright, the night
. . .
a subway that wants
to forget the dark
and glide forever
in reflected light
. . .
encapsulated,
little nuggets of joy
stream away as we pass.
. . .

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s