In every street my feet tread
the neon bulbs of urban life
does arrest —
my weak eyes used to evening
my mind waiting for rest.
I hear them hiss like hypnotic snakes
with sundry colored eyes
fighting one another to bend me to their
These lights are the veins of the city
they do not sleep nor do they rest
and even in the sun’s jealous glare
they do still shine as a million
fireflies in a noisy, dirty jar.