the lights seem so far below,
and the sounds seem echoed back
from the houses
across the street, flaking
pastel blue tinged by
yellowing street lights
corrupted

and you were watching new light emissions
frame by frame,
and the taste of bourbon on yr tounge
and the cigarette smoke drifting so
high above,
and the lights so far below
and sounds on all sides

and I am lost, I wish it would rain

maybe then the windchimes could be
coaxed to sing, breaking this street and it's silence
for the benefit of your imagination