Click play below to listen to a reading of this poem by the author.
Fear not them that sell the body,
but have not power to buy the soul.
James Joyce, Ulysses
The city night
awakes just as the
crushing sun goes falling down
and on the heated asphalt streets
that radiate
and palpitate
men cruise in cars
around the station
windows rolled discretely down
so that the girls
with lipstick lips
and painted eyes
and leather skirts
and spikey heels
can ply their trade
beneath the lights
from one car
to the next car
to the next car
to the next car
til the red carnival lights
begin to spin
and swirl and dance
among the headlights
and the taillights
and the catcalls
and the back seats
and the front seats
and the flashing
red and blue
shines through the windshield
to reflect upon the faces
that contort
in silent ecstasy
ensconced in anonymity
Too soon the
moon departs the night
and purple gilds
the eastern sky
Too fast the
tens and twenties fly
from sweating hands
to clutching hands
Too harsh
staccato heels click
down the street
and slowly fade away
and slowly fade away