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This is Old Mexico, land of rattle-snakes. Drifting high in the night sky, An airplane's light illuminates the clouds. The darkness is more easily seen with light.
On the low hillsides, the city sighs Palm trees hover ridiculously and majestically. Birds of Paradise guard the sidewalks Amidst disembodied laughter.
A stranger in their neighborhood, I am eyed suspiciously by after-dinner dog-walkers. I am casing the night for poems To break into my heart.
Fhyre Phoenix
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