THE CITY DUSK

Reeking bins and flies
are velvet silhouettes
of the city. Processions
pass peeling walls that
still betray pasty makeup.
Doors are closing, kicking
the Boss down how many
storeys into the streets
that spread like fingers.
The shadows stir in their
hiding places. Invisible
hands knife the streets.
Lampposts shriek. Crowds of
black boys sell words to
Silence. Industrialflocks bleat
beneath the glare of giant-
squint traffic lights, dreaming
of hot snacks and death, as
a Red Net cloaks the city.