Any other night

Stars filled the gutters like rain. Each star shone a color no one had seen before. Beggars found them like precious jewels in dark alleys and sewers. Each held them up like a newborn baby and the discovery of his own Eldorado. Kindness became the prerogative of bricks and cobblestones. Each Bourgeois soul realized its own incompetence. Greed leaked from all its containers like ink poured into a sieve. Flames, crying and laughing, arose over every poet’s head. Even though it wasn’t Pentecost, no one was surprised.