Midsummer Day's Dream

Trolley rails burrow in the charcoal

black asphalt, purple and green and yellow

beads dangle from tree limbs and mingle with

the leaves, trading secrets in the breeze

Phantoms waltz past the trolley, their faces

covered, hidden behind Venetian style masks,

an ethereal glow trailing after them,

grazing the rails like a bride's train

The colors in their dresses, vibrant and lively,

ebb and flow with the slow flutter of a distant

brass band, swirling, blending—a mobile

mosaic marching down Main

A bell rings, wheels screech, windows rattle, bodies

lurch forward. "Next stop!" The trolley rolls to a halt.

The colors dissipate, the music fades, leaving only

laughter's residue and a trumpet's whine.