City Aesthetic

City Aesthetic

At night, when I sit
in the confines of the city
the honk racket, the sputter
of old, abused cars

I stare from the windows
of the confines of my room
past my pale orange balcony
towards the bright world afar

Those Beautiful Windows. At first
I look at how they are lined
one by one by one. Where
so many tired people sleep

Because it's late on a Friday
And tired people have left
this world for the next. But
a few lights remain on.

My eyes move towards each light.
Dim as a child's night light
or some late-night poker game.
Or as bright as early breakfast.

And when my head bobs up and
down towards the carpeted ground
I think to myself of fireflies
plastered to a billboard sky.

My lights are off, except faint
light from my TV screen. I wonder
of how I look upon them, and how
they must look at me from there.

Theirs being a similar struggle
as thoughts and wonders quickly
pass from my room to a neighbor,
Firefly Lights painting their eyes.