Back of a Cab
She is the hidden moon of the street
I am the neon that waits for her step
Her elegant walk of night
These street lamps are ancient poets
Gallery of open wounds
Romance like a knife with pearl blood
Everyone is disguised
Predators sleep late
Jazz echoes like violet gold
Walk by the warehouse district
Revamped by the vampires
Shops and displays as vain as death
By the harbor the insurance company lives
No one escapes their giant arms
I hear her high heels like a hurricane
She smiles and knows I am weak
Tonight the crowds play
Her turquoise earrings dangle
Her lips like apple orchards
Her red dress tempts me like lava
Her eyes deep as a friend
She is the light that glows
The moon rises above the towers
She kisses me in the back of the cab
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Added by Poetry Lover
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