Violets on Church Street

The asphalt glows

in technicolor.

Puddles of neon

drip

from storefronts;

Church St. has

turned into a

stretch of

pulsating

light.

I can feel

the city’s

heartbeat

beneath my feet.

I can feel your

pulse

against my skin.

I can feel.

Your lips glow

like violets

under the shades

of strobing

moonlight.

There are no cars, tonight

There is only stage

after stage

of dancing bodies,

colorful souls

who sing the

Body Electric

and give us permission

to scream along.

I sing so loudly that

you press your mouth against mine,

just to join in the song.

We have only just met

but fireworks

aren’t meant

to last forever.

Then again,

Pride

should last longer

than

a single night,

a single month,

a single person.

In the street

that beams

every color

reflected in the sky,

I am surrounded

by something larger than myself –

Something that came before myself –

Something that will live long beyond myself –

When I look up,

there are no stars tonight;

there is only

the moondust and glitter,

the echoes of howling

celebration.

When I look up,

the night sky is

a kaleidoscope of

rainbow-streaked galaxies.

I hold your hand and

sing along to songs about love

and I mean every single

colourful

word.