Poetry: "Black Market Love"

He walks these downtown streets,
where night's shadows make
slow concession as the new day
dawns on the dark heart of the city;
the red-tinted light of morning,
reflected off shop windows,
shows him his mirrored face,
a front for the forbidden.
The long rays of newborn brilliance

cut through the shadowed streets  
 a strange smile, small signal,
 directs him to enter,
 to stop and browse
 the mob's discouraged goods,
 shunned by the world,

separate in their lonely room.
 He steps eagerly inside,
 and blinded by the dust
 he stumbles then in shock,

at finding such a line;
 more than he imagined were
 looking just the same,
 for that something so elusive,
 hidden well away,
 that black market love.