...and DAMN it feels good to do this again.

feel the slip-shod shuffle
and pulsing rhythm
of the street.

the soft moist night
wrapped in blankets
of moonlight and darkness.

our footsteps pound
on black-sky asphalt,
parting street lights into shadows;
and the sound penetrates
the yielding night air.

and down the street, sirens wail,
and as they pass we float
on thick warm steam
through to the heavens.

Random Original Poetry, courtesy of M(e/yself), and unoutFluences.