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