It's Almost Night

and yet the buildings are still turning their faces
towards some light
Necks stretched
On tiptoes
Arching over each others' heads
to catch some final blaze

And so the buildings stare, their
eyes glazed
Reverie rippling through their
flickering spines
Door-mouths agape in structural sighs
('What is this mist of energy?')

The Electric
confounded
by the
Heavenly