It is an active quiet
low jets in their final approaches

cars accelerating
all departures

the lights in the half-finished
tower go out in blocks

goodnight, goodnight
the muffled bassline

of some song
in passing

the man-made geometries
of light against

a matte black night
no moon, no stars

just the bright cascade of glass
bottles into the bin

behind some bar
the city full

of emptiness
expanding out like a lung