We stand with a city
on our separate porches celebrating
neon-lighted rituals and candles.
A summer night is sweeping,
seductively relentless.
We celebrate stolen yard lamps,
midnight chases.
When the world becomes profound
for a moment...
nothing to do but sit...
watch.
And perfection won't present itself
too often...
it's the feeling after the fact that remains,
the French smoke a feeling,
the shadow by your side a feeling.
A day's inspiration, once inspired, never fades.