It's Not What They'Re Supposed To Look Like Poem by Dwight Jenkins

The city is alive with shades of blue and gray
In the distance of miles, many miles, that I am away
And how it will fade out I cannot say
But the morning will paint it anew.

The evening tonight picks soft colors, muted tones
Of deep dark threats; not so real, but enough to intone
The red rusted chimes of a run down home
I remember, and thought I once knew.

Cites, homes, memories, bones
All painted with brushes of blue.