|magic that night
there's the sweet tinge of magnesium
flares along the boardwalk.
a quiet hiss as a bronchital snake.
paved lots fresh white lines
reflecting a comely day's moon
each star a suburban tailight in the cosmos.
zephyr streaks through lunar washed convertabiles.
the bulwark of imagination; he and her and it sprouting spring wings.
them flying to sleep.