a black limousine
I haven't seen one of these before

going in circles around the block
under a wall of neon
we flipped up to call it the sky

no song or story
passing by in a white
suit like a candle's flame
in the city at night

dance patterns
form footnotes
traces of silver
spraypaint shimmer
on the street

glitz under tyres
slowly driven
with greying headlights
the radio breathing
softly asleep

turn back, tune in
and go again