Primary-colored neon signs,
In the windows,
Of every smoke-permeated bar.
Open is in red,
Cocktail glass in blue,
Lemon twist,
Gin,
Yellow.
Around the corner,
A French antique store,
With grand chandeliers,
Dangling from,
Every inch of its ceiling,
Emitting a coalesced glow,
Warm,
Mellow.
Every nightclub down the street,
A party of its own.
Strobe lights,
Blinding.
Music,
Deafening.
A drunk teen,
Retching.
Poor,
Fellow.
Fluorescent billboards,
Brood over worn-out men.
City lights,
No matter how bright,
Can never drown out,
Their dark suits,
Dark ties.
Their longing,
To belong.
Their sighs,
A,
Bellow.
