LILI G.

The clock forgets to tick at midnight, Azusa’s streets exhale silver dust. Streetlamps lean in like lovers, spilling gold across empty sidewalks. A lone palm fronds the breeze, whispering secrets in Morse. Somewhere, a coyote croons to the moon— a velvet note that curls around rooftops. Neon signs flicker off, one by one, leaving only the hush of possibility. The night tastes