We race, through moonlight
to the next street corner,
giddy, stumbling
but quick. 
Ever so quick.

Smearing the hair from our eyes with sweaty palms,
blinking the street lights away
and plunging once again into the sudden black.

You laugh, once, suddenly - your eye wide, crazed with this.
It's too loud against our hushed breathing, but I mirror it
I'm intoxicated with it.
We're ghouls, echoing off the buildings, dancing on the web
of hardened earth lifting the pavement up beneath our feet.

We're violent, crazed, barefoot, fifthly, alive.
Blissful lunacy.
Every night, a life, a death, every moment hanging in that space between,
glorious fear and joy choking our words.
The silence broken only by the quiet thud of racing feet on concrete stages
the empty city laughing back at us; ours, to keep 
a giant secret hidden in
a dark corner of a lonely world

We gaze at the blank windows, throw stones
at the rooftops, pause to listen to them echo

Then, again,
we race.