Saxophone Streets

Moon lit streets are saxophones
Darkness suggesting more than asphalt and paint
Curvaceous, the body
Winding seductively, into it’s music
Streetlight keys are notes
The language of fluid dark
A song
No one hears
Played
By every driver, every wanderer
Adding staccato footsteps to the asphalt staff
In this time devoid of light
Pot hole vibratos iridesce in the headlights
Moments where color and music collide
Horns pipe in now, angry and long
Punctuation to this never ending phrase
A wind section, ephemeral
The melody of lives lost
whispering lullaby warnings against bad decisions and late nights
Tempting one more to the chorus of unspoken goodbyes
Now the wail of sirens
Double time rhythm and ambulance lights
A red period
Radio static for the twenty first century
Tense words from frightened mouths, lost
Now
Quiet
Time will tell whether the wind has claimed another
Black fades to violet then crimson
For a moment dawn sees these saxophone streets
In lighter hues it’s lost
Once again dull asphalt and chipped paint
Symphony dormant
Drawing the unwitting to another performance

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