Monday, March 7, 2011

WAY LATE (#poetry)

Press play for some mood music

Nothing safe comes after midnight.
At least that's how
I've always seen it.
Useless alley cats howl
like a dying infant,
haunting your dreams.

The phone rings.
It's the death call
--the one we
all dread getting.
Mom's dead.
Dad fell.
All at night,
and way late.

And then there's our ailments
The tooth hurts more;
Fever rages;
Pain throbs
and throbs
and throbs
and all way,
way late.

And that dude driving late
at night? Couldn't say no
to just one more.

And what about that car next
door that just parked?
Blowjob? Meth?
Your shady neighbor,
the one who looks down as
you pass him, keeps looking
out that broken window.
Up and down, slammin’ it shut.
Way late.

Oh, and then there's the
white trash down the way.
Bottles clankin' as
broken glass scatters.
A scream.
A slap.

Siren light revolves
through your bedroom.
It reflects odd colors,
multiplying in the mirror.
You’re groggy, half awake;
The image of a faded
memory gives you
a mini nightmare.
Way late.

But then
the birds chirp,
and chirp
some more
In bed, you mellow.
An early jogger;
the pitter-patter
of expensive kicks;
Someone takes out the trash;
An engine starting;
A door slams a quick,
responsible slam;
Someone far sayin', “Morning.”
The alarm darts alive.


Another day.

MUSIC: 'Round Midnight' courtesy of the Internet Archive. It can be downloaded HERE.


  1. Way late. Way after midnight. Quiet. Peaceful, but the phone is next to the bed, just in case. Reflecting on the starving childen down the street that I saw on 60 Minutes. A crisis to be solved. But not now. It's way late.

  2. I'm up... it's waaaay early. Could also be way late, depending how you look at it ;-).

    Nice to see an awesome post by you thought. Make it way worth it.

    Happy Monday, Anthony.

  3. This was great. I'm glad I stopped by before it was way late.


    Damn, I want to taste the stark agitation of each stanza and spit it out ... the pain lurks and shouts and you keep it comin, keep it comin.

    Love the turnaround to potentially the peace of another day -- then the alarming reality past your alarm.

    Dans la nuit you nailed it sweet, Ant. Softly: "Bravo."

    ~ Absolutely*Kate -- tellin' the world your super-fantastic SINATRA piece is playin' the RAT PACK REVUE right now ~ AT THE BIJOU

  5. It's dark. It's scary. It's dangerous. It hurts. The best thing to do from 12 am to 6 am is to squeeze your eyes shut and sleep. Sleep deeply, dreamlessly and then welcome the sound of the birds and yes, even the alarm clock. If you don't, you may be "way late" to work, Anthony!

    Oh, did I mention how much I love your writing, whether prose or poetry?


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