One hundred twelve in the bright florescent midnight shade
I bumble through a weary crowd marching down The Strip beside dancing neon, drunken girls, and gold firelight
Mojave desert heat blasts the granite marble hills towards God’s tower man-made
One hundred twelve in the bright florescent midnight shade
Dreams fleeting as fast silver coins tumble through the flashing casino parkade
The jingle-jangle rhythm strikes a mirthful heartbeat of disjointed amusement in the night
One hundred twelve in the bright florescent midnight shade
I bumble through a weary crowd marching down The Strip beside dancing neon, drunken girls, and gold firelight.
© 2017, Michael Shawn Sommermeyer. All rights reserved.
