This is my city.
My city is a dark city.
My city sleeps in the light.
Comes alive when niceties,
formalities, moralities doze.
Murder capital. Mainstream
mainline midwest nightmare.
Only a city could have made this.
Only a city would have made this happen.
Susurrations and permutations
in plain black and white surreal noir.
Darkness made Visible. Organic ordination
in non-ordinal imaginary numbers.
The Order of the Night.
The statistics lie and we are all spies
sleeping through our lives and
turning and turning and turning
on each other and turning
each other on
and off, on and