The city blooms like a flower at night, soft fluorescent petals
warming black skies with their electric glow
while brash neon thorns jut from seedy alley-ways
where men crawl like worms,
and ladies are moths in the moonlight

The dark roots of her freeways
and white aphid headlights of her cars
trace the city's limbs in and out of the garden
pulsing and throbbing her life blood by day
extending their grip by night
while the buds that are buildings thrust upward and out,
in growing displays of their floral delight

In the loud light of day, in the harsh desert sun,
this flower will not bloom
But come the dusk, the sun's sad farewell
she will open herself
and rise, stretching each paisley petal,
and each crimson thorn
fresh against the night.

AcB 6.29.00