Broad St.

The stars shine on Broad Street.
Women vying for attention.
High heels.
Full wallets.
Men waiting with condoms in their back pockets.
A silly game where no one wins,
except the taxi driver,
lying in wait for Reflex to empty.

Covered by buildings
and light summer rain
as they dance through the streets
like gazelles wearing blindfolds.
Timidly looking for some place
to call home for the night
that doesnt come with guilt
and pills the next day.
Each step a fallacy.
Each word a regret.
The stars shine bright on Broad Street..
If only they could see them.