steps between spaces are as silent
as the town trying to find its sleep
whispers from hushed restaurants evaporate
as they're visually removed from focus

my desire for rest is not unlike
the town's
giving me less light than I deserve
as I search for a parked car
to take me home

kids walking along Bloomfield avenue
look for liquor stores that don't card
fueled by the ecstasy of mischievous youth

if I drive away
will I miss the golden opportunity
sitting in place waiting for kinetic release?

if all I want is to drive into your arms
without reservation
am I selfish
or just lonesome?

East Side Mags closes in
the crescendo of finality
an array of dark stores
lifeless – unattractive at night

the flicker of New York activity
a compass on the horizon for
any wandering traveler

it's a whole world over there
a perfect backdrop for night drives