It's been a while, so here's a poem

The shape of lit windows
It's a technique we've seen since forever
Placid, the blurred whatever outside
Dark-neutral frame for the clarity light brings
The rigid box for bright fights or
Sex, or maybe it's just TV
Quickly painting the faces different colors.
It's a porthole, outside of which are buses
Moving rectangles lit up like anglerfish
Cruising, stopping to swallow you up
And you are glad to be
Away from the ambiguity of night.
Fixed boxes of light float by
And you wouldn't see them in the daytime
And as you're digested in this bus,
Gliding into the dark you think,
I know it differently at night;
I can see you now, your lives,
in these windows.