At night, the world sparkles.
Broadway, Main, 1st St.
Like a gauzy moth,
I am attracted to
the bright lights.

But not fatal
are these neon flames.
Still, I shun
the faux glitterati,
and instead lurk
in the softly glowing
shadows of the small
cafes and coffee houses.

I dress to the nines
before a night out,
feeling sexy,
but not looking.

I like to walk the
streets at night
with groups of friends,
be it 10 or two.

Out to dinner at
a swank restaurant,
then dessert at
the tiny French patisserie,
or perhaps just
a cup of hot chai
with a few friends.

Either way, downtown,
away from the hellish suburbs,
away from the monoculture
strips malls and chains,
down among the glitz and the threadbare,
everything is unique,
every experience different,
everything real.

Only the fake follow
the glitterati like
papparazzi or stalkers.

I will not be faux,
but rather vrais.
I can pronounce
my francais,
merci beaucoup,
and I blaze my own trail.

What do you do?