Getting Off Work in Vegas

Dusk reveals my solitude,
The isolation of my being
magnified
in the storefront lights and buzzing signs.

Hands, like strings, break free of clasping
at this time.

In this, the pink machinery, I am, all alone,
with no one to call or come home to,
at one with its burn
like its torches are my arms.

What yesterday
were places that fell away
while time flew
and lovers devoured
now allow a view
how their service is their beauty
not what they serve.

In service one is free,
can catch the merest flare of breeze
without the need to capture it
for some dependent other.

Surrounded by the skies
not the envelope of eyes
the night opens
to the wound
without pain or anesthetic
just the seeing,
the glowing, magnificent
experience.