Alone on the urban highway, he drives
Amid a subthreshold constellation
Of front porches and shining monoliths
About two times his customary size
The vacant lanes arouse elemental
Imaginings: "I could swerve to and fro
In this expanse, and who would know?"
But he does not, the threat of some
Insomniac authority burning
Brighter still. Instead, he parks, disembarks,
And leaves the car like everything is right
And walks into the geometric light
Through concrete gardens, shaped with cunning skill
Illumined so his automatic brain
Assumes it's afternoon, while, in the sky
A firefly announces to the eye
Just how ethereal the edifice--
At his unsure fluorescing yellow gutter
The brainstem gives involuntary shudder