The asphalt shines gloriously in the wake of torrential rain..
the refracting colours and beams from
street-lamps and flicker of lighters..
The local hooligans indulge in the bitter-sweet smoke
from their various types of cigarettes.
An ugly sort of beauty
that is seldom appreciated.
My eyes glow with the enthusiasm of a caged animal;
released to the outside for my 15 minutes of basking in the sun..
Or - in this case - the moon and the stars;
the freshly disturbed air, with all of it's scents
and ominous connotations.
Another bag is penetrated - sometimes sparingly -
sometimes liberally..
The saucer reverberates with a steady tempo
achieved by hands well-versed in a prep kitchen.
There will be no onions on this cutting board, my friends.
Tonight we fight the good fight.
Otherwise, we may never make it
to the bad fight alive or kickin'.
We're off to the next tale of regrets
and ambitious meddling with the affairs
of the surroundings.
Let this one be for you,
my fellow scaliwags!