A dark stream spills snake-wise over the streets’ hissing hot
The noon light reflects optical illusions,
like piano key towers,
and tall men with powers.
Most of the smokestacks
protrude from their and the city’s mouth
streaming with a harmony
hollowed of energy.
That dark stream sweeps the feet clean
and the men run faster
staring down at the hissing pavement
looking up at the black and white glass.
The noon light transfigures their image;
city and men.
They are shorter by dusk
and gone in the dark stream of night.