The light poles
Stories of my nights
Published in
Feb 20, 2021
On my usual night crawl
the street is lined up with tall pedestrians
looking down into my abyss
from the nauseating prominence
of their moral high ground.
Aiming their halos down at me
I am starting to think
I am being bullied into shining.
I reach deep into my pocket.
They gasp petrified, their lights flicker.
Oh, fear not!
I’m just searching for my ON button.
Press the switch, hear the click
yet the darkness can’t be bothered.
Makes no difference.
These streets are just concrete,
no ocean in sight.
What good is a lighthouse?
