WAY LATE (#poetry)

Press play for some mood music

WAY LATE
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.

Fuck.

Another day.

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

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