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lonely streetI turn around and am suddenly struck

by the strange blue light of a memphis dusk

as if the city’s in mourning for itself,

the neon sparse and subdued along the boulevard,

subtle like a dream imperfectly recalled,

as if exercising good taste and a slight restraint

in its representation of twilight.

at that between times hour when

the concession stands have all shut down,

the vendors regretfully shaking their heads

at you as you reach for your money,

the onset of darkness muting like a silencer on a gun

the brash confrontational display of day.


Photo from Belinda