Neon Shadows in the Deep

The ocean floor wears a crown of flickering signs—submerged strip malls and drowned arcades glowing like fallen constellations. A barracuda drifts past a liquor store’s neon mermaid, her colors bleeding into the black. Jukebox bubbles rise toward a surface no one remembers. The shipwreck’s jukebox still takes quarters, playing warped 45s of whale song and submarine static. Even the anglerfish have paused their lonesome hunting, drawn to the glow of a broken "OPEN" sign, its last vowel dangling by a wire. Down here, the shadows aren’t dark—just waiting their turn to shine.