The sun sets and the streetlights turn on, flickering to life as the dark sets in. Del Ray Avenue, quiet during the day, picks up after sunset, business here is best left to the dark times. With just the fluorescent glow, the buildings don't look as warn down. Neon lights paint some buildings bright colors, washing out the yellowy glow of the streetlight on the pavement.

The first customer tonight is a kid looking for a quick fix. He is twitchy, unable to keep his hands still, one keeps checking his pocket. Finally the dealer's middleman comes, leads the nervous kid out of the pool of light and into the shadows of the buildings. The kid won't leave the alley for hours, and when he does, his twitching will have stopped, his movements will be fluid and slow.

In the mean time a different kind of business picks up in the pool of light. A young woman, just barely an age she can be called woman, struts to a stop at the base of the lamp. She props one foot on the base of the dark metal pillar, adjusting the calf high boot, then the garter that shows tantalizingly below the short skirt. Once done she checks her makeup to ensure she looks sufficiently older, then strays to the edge of the light.

In her childhood, if you could call it that, she stood by and watched the crews installing the streetlight. She had hidden in the alley instead of going to school. The light was designed to look like the old-fashioned wrought iron lights, a design chosen to bring a little more class to a deteriorating neighborhood. It wasn't up for two days before people started using it as a stop for walking their dogs, ignoring the newly planted trees. The trees have since been removed upon complaints of the leaves clogging the drains in the fall.

When the streetlight was in place, and the crew had picked up and gone home, the little girl came out from her spot in the alley and looked straight up the light post. "I bet the view from there is great," she said wistfully, and stood for several more minutes trying to divine a way to the top of the light. She left when some older boys came, but frequently paused under the lamp the next few years, looking up longingly.

In it's early days the lamp became a landmark, a meeting spot for couples and friends. Children used it as a marker for the end of foot races. For a year a hawk even build a nest on top of the fixture, until crews were called to remove it.

Tonight the young woman at the edge of the light has met a young man with an eager look on his face. The girl looks bored with what he has to say, but after a few minutes, leaves on his arm. The night deepens and the neon signs are turned off for the night. The yellow pool of light is the only break to the darkness of the night until a car comes by. The headlights and street lamp cross-light the buildings and alley, making the shadows seem that much darker. The passenger who leaves the vehicle doesn't notice. As he his clear from door it slams shut and the car peals out, around the corner and to the main part of town.

The passenger, a man beaten and bloody, pants on his hands and knees. Heaving erupts from his empty stomach and racks his body for several moments. When it stops he sits down and leans his back against the light post, tears falling silently from his eyes. Later, in the pre-dawn light, he will finally stand and stumble into a nearby apartment building, but for now he sits, safe in the protective circle of light.