The twilight flips from amber
To ultraviolet blue,
Streetlights hum in liquid green
Along the avenue.
At that hour where the pixels blur,
When the starlight leaks through satellite skies,
And flickers through the earth below
Like signals in disguise.
Who walks under sodium sunlight
Through streets that know the glow will fade?
Ghost trains sliding through the distance,
Static in the arcade.
The backroads of the woodland shimmer
With a gold-screen firestorm haze,
Every branch alive with circuits
In the slow electric rain.
And where the skyline fades to cyan
Over laughing housing blocks,
The clouds drift soft like melted film
Above the rooftop clocks.
In the dark pine corridors
I’d vanish endlessly,
In deep cool shadows underneath
The breathing canopy.
At noon the air folds silver,
The rivers pulse neon,
Dragonflies like tiny drones
Keep buzzing softly on.
The twilight spills to deeper blue
With strips of molten amber light,
Cars dissolve like glowing insects
Into the breathing night.
A radio sings from nowhere,
Half broken, warped with rain,
A melody of drifting code
Repeating through my brain.
The pavement sweats with colour,
The windows bend and sway,
Billboards bloom like giant flowers
Then quietly decay.
And somewhere in the starlight
A carousel still turns,
Slow beneath the overpass
Where every shadow burns.
The trees all lean like dreamers
Above the glowing streams,
While airplanes blink like silver fish
Swimming through my dreams.
The twilight darkens further,
The skyline melts from view,
And all the city flickers softly
In electric blue.
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