The light's not chasing
tricks tonight, and I'm chasing
it. It's sticking to
the barest white faces, to
fire-escapes' twisted
teeth, to the straight-edge
snarls of brick crevices, and
to the slight, tight cracks beaten
into the jaws of the slick
cement walks. I'll stick
wherever it would, could be,
and I'll fall where it casts me.
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