Like celestial bodies, pedestrians trace set patterns across a canvas of asphalt
Drawn by the gravitational pull of monoliths and hot-dog stands
Can no one else see this weave of crosswalk constellations?
Is an emptying party bus not a collection of comets, flaring bright and fleeting?
An irregular orbit has me looking down instead of up
An outlier on the wrong axis, but I still see stars
How brightly might this city shine
How brightly might this city shine If this was where we put our wishes?