Gutter Spectrum

After the rain, in the cracked asphalt's dip,

a skin of water, grey and deep.

And on its surface, a slick, slow drip

of oil, where colors woke from sleep.

Purple and green, a bruised, bright gleam,

shifting like some impossible eye.

A dirty rainbow, a dark, rich dream

of what could catch the broken sky.

It was just waste, a kind of poison,

but for a moment, held so much light.

A flawed beauty, held in prison

of the parking lot, terribly bright.