from their flats
and houses
into the maw
of the city
with Friday highs
as if existence
were all blue skies.
Soon they’ll be
out of their minds
on chemical beers
and non-vintage wines
these huddled masses
whose souls lie
in their senses.
And so the night
goes on and on
as life goes on
until they crash
coupled or alone
into Lethe-like sleep
and final oblivion.