It is dark.
I walk a downtown street that is far from deserted.
The neon signs form blurred patterns in the distance, yet are distinct in my visions foreground.
I near a club; music so loud the pavement pulses with the life of it.
The door opens, making the very air vibrate with noise. The flicker of colored lights splash the waiting partiers, music lovers, casting whimsical shadows on bricks and the street.
The sound dims as I walk.
The shining signs are striking against the dark of the sidewalk.
Many bodies pass me, moving quickly, lost in their own social dialogue.
The cars in the street form steady streams of red and white, causing such a din.
I come upon a coffee shop, tranquil compared to the club.
Inside the light is dim, laptop screens illuminating individual faces; faces of writers… poets.
I pass on.
There are shops here, showcasing metallic finery, enchanting little baubles.
The crowd around me hasn’t thinned. Some enter these busy structures, yet more come out. A dance of chaotic bliss that lasts far into the early morn.
I hear a guitar playing ahead, and a lone violin in the distance. Their different songs playing in discord on top of the noise of the street and passersby .
It composes the exquisite music of the nightlife.
It carries the moon towards its elegant decent as the last lingering notes fade into the night.
It is dark.
I walk a downtown street that is now deserted.