On a balcony in New Orleans at night in the Central Business District

half a pie moon hovering

while fleeting 

mist-like clouds float on

causing a blurry outer edge

there’s a slight breeze

then there’s not

the air is unseasonably sticky

I drift off into the cityscape

hotel rooms and offices

light up and dim randomly

like shooting stars out of the 

corner of one’s eye 

jutting structures 

offer a multitude of colors

with some ever-changing

the city’s sound is comforting 

constant hums of

industrial a.c. units

lull me into a trance-like state

only to be jarred back by

sirens or honking horns


at these heights 

people don’t even exist