They suspend
like handfuls of confetti
thrown from the windows
that surround Times Square
on New Year’s Eve,
clusters that never seem to move,
just shock the sky
when they suddenly appear.
Like dazed fireflies,
they twist in darkness
and blink
when their momentum abates
so we might glance
a fading streak
before their lights go out,
which is why
we lean against buildings
and always look up,
why we sneak a peek
through the moon roof
when traffic stalls our progress,
why the affluent
and the homeless stare at the sky,
because solace and hope
line the dark ceiling
and the lamps
that bring the night to life,
hide answers to the dreams
that evaporate on our pillows.
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