It’s Sunday night,

and speakers are competing

to keep the Monday blues at bay.

Above, the night sky is littered with stars.

Hooters punctuate the sound of popular music,

and revellers gather to drink and try

numb the true state of their poverty,

the harshness of it all.

I wonder if anyone has even noticed how splendid

the night sky’s evening gown is tonight?

Perhaps looking up is asking a bit too much,

especially when the weight of hardship

has you constantly looking down.