Flying Out Of Phoenix At Night

The party is over, mom is 70 now
out the window lights begin to glow
small blue lights quickly become a bright blue line
a humble yellow light shimmers all alone

run, run, run - jump
I told my girls when they were young
the climb is smooth and easy
neon signs glare bright, ugly
they didn't used to be

lights like stars hiding in the trees
colors twinkling in and out
streets appear as a lighted grid
with long dramatic ribbons escaping at random
black patches I know are Camelback, South Mountain,
the McDowells, Papago Park,
the dry Salt River winding through the lights

I absorb each familiar one
a captive at the window
until the last spark flickers out