In the Unspecified City
Caught in traffic, with the oncoming night
erasing the street signs.
Shopkeepers locking their doors,
stepping out onto sidewalks
strewn with stark headlines and grime.
Carving the air, the blade of a siren.
The purple-black biblical sky
like the city’s inverted shadow.
Under a yellow umbrella, two passers-by
are laughing.
Longing, such extravagant longing
for that kind of banter.
It occurs to me that we are still
circling the sun.
Laura Ann Reed