For a bandit has stolen the argon coins
From the glass of its lamp poles.
The concrete isthmus is now paved
With nightfall's shaded arc,
The lanes ballasted with damp souls.
Nothing but the radio on,
Duran, Tears, Mode, Floyd,
The road stretches,
Tapers into a void.
Where anything can happen,
A place where nightmares and dreams
Can be similarly destroyed.
K. Jared Hosein
