Seldom Places

If you could bottle the smell

Of tumble-weed armies

Devouring ghost towns,

And somehow combine it

With the mortal sense

Of terrifying imminence

When a nearby streetlight

Ousts itself,

Unexpected

On your 1AM moonlit stroll:

You would know the Seldom Places.

The zones of feeling

Seen only in the hearts

Of those who travel to Places Seldom seen,

At hours of inconvenience

To any but insomniacs.

The burst of greyscale color

Deep in your iris,

When you walk through the homeless,

That emotion is timeless

And hopeless

And free