My Picture.: A gallery I visited in Ho Chi Minh City…a collective of local artists.

Big wheels turn round and around,
live it our way and live it long.
Lights going down, never satisfied
a first faint line without substance.

Midnight valentines shooting the moon,
following snake tracks on the road.
Clipped roses litter the ground
and blind birds drink from a dark puddle.

Something in the way it all moves.
A night walk slowly approaching, open in hunger.
Dark against the near dawn,
filling the corners with light.