On the Tiles

Unlovely, sullen city after hours –
the drizzle on the godforsaken streets;
the narrow alleys where the houses cower,
its dizzy pulse slowed to a sluggish beat;

thin lanterns dripping orange lights in pools
that line the oily asphalt; dark, tight doors;
some scrawled graffiti grants the Rangers rule
and God sure doesn’t live here any more –

nobody seems to be behind these walls
but ghosts of yesterday that hide their eyes
from anyone that’s passing lest they’d call
this city from its sleep now time’s gone by.