A cool, wet street
The sound of tires splashing through the rain
One lone car up the road, toward the hill, and the gray church that stands there like some great Lord of life, overlooking the world
Neon glowing, gold and red, reflecting
A butcher shop on the sidewalk
Fine Meats it reads
As streetlights vape
And loneliness aches
Shop windows aglow
Bourbon blues
And anatomical greens
The candy shoppe with the clown
Peering out from behind a window
Silently screaming as he smiles
The bookshop that tastes like paper and coffee
The quiet ones wander about
Like it’s some great sin not to constantly spill words
Eyes whip across pages of words
The feel of a book in one’s hands
The weight of it, the texture, the smell
Something one would not trade
Not even for Heaven
And if Heaven even existed
It would be right here on this wet street
With its glass and brick and daily prayers
To the deity of the dollar
Even God is for sale
Even God drives greed
What are the profit margins like
On fiery chariots and Dead Sea scrolls?
cereal after sex 
Your thoughts?