Night Street

the glow of lights were absent
the street was calm.

rain was falling like little pink worms
with camouflage parachutes.
extended yielding moist.

the sky showed no vibrant color
it was in black and white,
like sticking your head in the ocean
and opening your eyes
to see the blackness of the deep ripples.
the long fingers touching the inside of your eyes,
that makes you open your eyes wider,
even though the salt stings deep inside.

the tree by the faded blue gate.
old and decayed like my grandfather.
bark flaking off like diseased skin.
leaves growing thinner like silver hair.
parasites crawl in and out like cancer
never leaving.
there, only to kill.
alone with no one to take care of it,
discarded and forgotten like a butterfly
whose wings had been touched.
helpless.

the smell of clean wet exhaust up
from the black street.
the street that shows no blemish.
the hot smell fills the air like
a carnival fills the air with sound.
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I found this photo on www.flickr.com and i really liked it and thought it would go well. even though its not anything close to what is in my poem. this is who's photo this is - CLICK