The Sun Went Down on the Bad Things Alexander Hughes And we took to the night like pale gangsters in well-worn shoes lacking only moustaches, swung downhill toward silver waters and shoo-shoo-sugartown beyond, rolled across the lazy troll’s front lawn in sleek shined vintage souls, floated through the breaks in the cars past the traffic chatter to a sushi sakè shakedown, and scandalized the bronze clown with his face on a patchwork limousine homecoming-bound beside the big rusted ugly, (And I’m curled in your pocket confessing my sins to the curve and swell of your hips and you’re tucked in my hat like a Polaroid of a good dream) and the copper-colored sky lowered its blanket over our miles of tiny blue crimes, and the sun went down on the Bad Things— if only for a time.
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Manastash 2013