Too Late To Play

Ah, lasers in the darkness, sounds like atoms dancing, repose, repose, the gallant markings making mystery all over the ceiling, I was thinking "This can only get better", but bewitched wavering, tested: unsure; only blessed be the statuary, holy is the arboretum and sleepy go the cardboard boxes, wobbling soggy down the rain-slick streets, looking for post-cards, pitching in for jars of cherries, dropping cigarettes rhythmically.

A mist I missed, inside with music, seeking Discovery Park in cluttered maps, finding the spots I lost, got lost, got photographed on a sunny stairway and the shutter's stuck now.