Night Vision

A stroll across the dark neon studded street
where crimson and clover reverberates
from fuzzy DJ speakers over and over...
spilling vibrato on the church lawn.

Over zealous zombies gawk at vintage vehicles,
as I hear a warbled slur of accolades, worn jokes
and yearning for good old days.

Lightly stepping out across the white lined pavement
in a legalized jaywalk
without a sidelong glance at gawping headlights
I stroll... unconcerned.

Hair once glimmered in gold
casts tawny shadows streaked in silver.
Slender and lithe as a sickle moon,
the invisible sylph saunters
in graceful sashay from the waning revelry,
her black dirndl skirt swaying
with star studded sequins
twinkling in frozen time.

Down the dark ally I stroll
past the dusty waxen faces
that stare in glassy disdain
from the stoney throne of a steepled banner.

A flower upon a stained glass oculus
is not sacred when it hides so much misery...

... and still I am unconcerned,
as sandaled heels clip clop over cobblestones.

It was the briefest of moments
when I saw that shadow of a woman
whose life I had lived
in a million moments
between laughter and tears,
as the night fair spectacle folded
into the parking lot ahead.

A hazy spotlight cameos
my own chivalrous chariot.