In the underground city
where they march
to the stoplight
going nowhere fast.

***** mounted set
swings or the everlasting.
A tone to set mood,
to change that very thing.

brisk room to move,
speeding the set,
not letting us settle,
only a brush and we're off.

Sleeping under the sheets
of a hot, hot desert sun,
that cold is gone
but for this evening.

Undertow ***** silvery light
down to the underground.
Kisses of light sent to and fro
in a dull foreboding march.