join our company,
the erstwhile, ne'er do well,
itinerant lunatics,
the no-sleep freaks
that hallway haunt the passages
where these passing-by poems
on the fly, go by, like raindrops,
crawling up, against logic, on a window pane

be comforted by the fact
that tho alone in your own writing castle,
I am looking over your shoulder,
wider, older, maybe wiser
and yet still can't
answer the question
we are unitary posing,

can we handle the nighttime seasons of our lives?