3 a.m.

I am too long awake
with my companions
greedy for my attention
impatience and discontent
on either side

Whimsy comes by
in a lavender tutu
and laughs at us
doing her best
with hand stands
and shadow puppets

Impatience wiggling
my big toe
while discontent
drives a truck full of words
through my brain

I am too long without sleep
delirium, keep me
from loneliness
as you pass over my body
closing my eye-lids
without warning

asylum

still looking for safety
somewhere to
sleep all night
and wake without fear
inside stalwart walls
no one can penetrate

first warm days of Spring
make me nostalgic
remembering good and bad
and horrible, blended
with lies and poured into
something tall and frosty

we drank coffee for water
those days
old plumbing I never trusted
rust colored fount at day break
I let it run and hummed
breaking eggs into a hot pan

I sorted the tangled
ate what was offered
seeking asylum
with the girl I used to be
thumbing my nose
at the world

tender dreams
and sick fantasies
kept him alive
winters cold enough
to freeze off toes
dark enough to hide
what he did not know

flowers die in the vase but she is quite alive
despite reports that she won’t pull through
the stronger they push her towards the dust
the greater her resolve to live well
pizza every night even on Saturdays
when they shake the earth for fifteen minutes
then slide a tray of pepperoni pizza and
ice cold Budweiser over the stain

Miscellaneous night thoughts

I can hear no cars. I might be the only one in this time zone awake.

The mind is errant when left on its own.With no goal in mind, it wanders through places my mother warned me about-with fancy names and neon.

Everything here is shiny and bright.My tired eyes blink, trying to make out shapes and faces.I see you, waving to me. I try to be nonchalant

I remember it was a drag the day I realized I was the girl mothers warned their sons about. I couldn’t very well argue with the facts.

There is nothing left now to do but keep it as a memory and sand down the edges, for posterity.Once I am gone, I will not be able to explain

Now that I have passed the fulcrum of this night, I will stay awake and watch the sun come up. I hate to think this stardust is wasted.

pink sunshine

I could live the rest of my life
with no more tears for you
if it meant Central Park was ours
and W. 32nd when
you sang “My Kind of Town”
at The Spot
my pink sunshines and your beers
no more than a memory now
that small hole in your jeans pocket
from your wallet
all the stupid things I remember
that keep me awake when it is cold and gray
and too foggy to drive