I noticed the curb in a serpentine bend, an illusion, a simple matter of a natural prism on end, now to notice, when the rain has stopped flow, the street lights in the rain, like walking on a mirror, a mirror made of mirages that so closely command disguise, in a dream of dali might I find such sights, but noting that dramatic, or static on canvas lies, for right in front of me, I can walk on the moon, stroll among the lights, splash in the heavens with the delight of a spare seconds flight, flourish in the splendor of the thought as the reverse onto the street is broadcast, street lights in the rain –