Streets of Desire

 

There is, sometimes, an overabundance of things.
More than you need, less than you desire, enough
To make you want to hold, to count, to see, to
Try to fix each one, to raise it to the light, see
If it will catch fire. It is dark and you watch
The moon rise like the sun, perfect and regal,
Monarch of the night but there they are, 
Strung up on poles, sodium coloured squares
In pairs, riddling the streets with fiery holes. 
Not to be outdone, the red and green preen,
More in control than the paling queen, 
Floating now in greys feeling outnumbered,
Unseen. Yes, sometimes there is an over
Abundance of things. I would say be careful
But really why should we be. Fill your 
Pockets, rejoice to the jingling of the
Small change that joy comes in. Feel it
With hungry fingers, smooth and light.
Take a break from the endless fight.