Catastrophic Glow

A poem

Chris Noonan

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Photo by Jason Leung on Unsplash

Neon lights bounce off the puddles,
Smearing across the rain-soaked window,
Brightly plumed youths gather in huddles,
The driver plays radio-friendly disco,
As the metre rolls over, adding a zero,
The traffic moves as the light turns green,
Pavements swell with Friday night heroes,
Half-pint brawlers looking to cause a scene,
A scrolling montage of abstract fluorescence,
Glaring signs, inviting, and enticing,
Licensed vampires praying on youths’ essence,
Bar themes mingle, genre splicing,
Narrow staired dives above gleaming dance floors,
Revellers shifting, flowing together,
Crew cut cloned bouncers guarding doors,
Pulsing music promising the night will last forever,
And the taxi rolls on with the driver droning,
Talking nonstop more to himself,
The rev of an engine drowns out the moaning,
Last comment heard was about his health,
The street is ribboned in a cascading glow,
Flickering madly like a glitch in the program,
An understanding grows of the catastrophic flow,
Fuelled by pills and powders sold by the gram,
The taxi turns the corner, and the party ends abrupt,
Chaos confined to a single street,
Restricted and controlled in case it corrupts,
Any passer-by it might meet.

© Chris Noonan

Thank you for reading.

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