Lights out.  I’m loafing on the balcony.
A cab goes by, like an elf
in the night, headlights on.
Its passenger pauses, pays the fare
and the cab leaves for the sky -
the brakes screeching as it goes up.  

Shadows and heat gradually close upon me
and will choke me with fumes.
The night flower emits its scent,
pervading the entire fence, the flag,
the dogs, the bus stops
and all the people responding to its call.

At night, the palm trees stretch out arms
to unite on the shadows of the street.
Things shake off their shape,
the daily round and misery,
they slip away - soft textures,
their makeup unrealistic. 

Ursa Major lowers from the firmament
and disappears in the black woods.
Ships fly on the road to the North.
Control of the world is non-existent
- it’ll soon come unstuck and break:
I can already see the explosion, the fire.