At nine p.m.
they roll up
the crooked
sidewalks
like they're
fabric bolts.
And every neon
light in the diner
window flickers
in commercial dim.
When winter comes
sometimes i drive past
the closed ice cream stand
and think about what i never did.
At nine p.m.
they shut off
their overhead
living room lights.
Every dog is
in for the night
and only the cats
are crossing the street.
Small town
cozy village
happy people
normal sleepers.
so incredibly
law-abiding
stability's key
Not like me.
at nine p.m.
they roll up
the crooked
sidewalks
like they're
Fabric bolts.
but i've always
felt the need to
walk the streets
around ten p.m.
pretend they're
Still concrete.
Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 12:44 PM UTC
At nine p.m.
they roll up
the crooked
sidewalks
like they're
fabric bolts.
And every neon
light in the diner
window flickers
in commercial dim.
When winter comes
sometimes i drive past
the closed ice cream stand
and think about what i never did.
At nine p.m.
they shut off
their overhead
living room lights.
Every dog is
in for the night
and only the cats
are crossing the street.
Small town
cozy village
happy people
normal sleepers.
so incredibly
law-abiding
stability's key
Not like me.
at nine p.m.
they roll up
the crooked
sidewalks
like they're
Fabric bolts.
but i've always
felt the need to
walk the streets
around ten p.m.
pretend they're
Still concrete.
Copyright 11/26/15 by B. E. McComb