Sneaking out at one in the morning.
Not because I need to.
No one to see
nothing to smoke.
Not trying to get caught and prove a point.
My only reason is lack of a better thing to do.
My only cause is to not have one.

I turn the *** (ever so slowly) until it creaks.
It always does.
I push the door (ever so quietly) until it squeaks.
It always does.
I step outside,
leave the door open,
look in window,
make sure the lights are out (they always are) and close the door.
Take one step, two steps,
three steps, four
onto the lawn.
Look up at the sky, to the stars.
See Old Mother shining bright (she always is) and look left.
See Old Father shining bright (he always is) and walk north.
Down the gravel driveway and onto the road.
Check for cars, there aren't any. (there never is)
Turn left and walk up the hill.
At the top there is a field.
Check for bums (never there)
Lie down.
Look at the stars some more.
Pull some grass from the ground and weave a little cross.
Turn it upside down and laugh.
Wait five minutes, then ten.
Eleven, twelve, and thirteen more
Hear a door and then a car start.
Watch as the headlights as they go the other way.
Recognize the license plate as my fathers.
He doesn't stop (he never does)
Get up and walk home.
Check the ashtray by the threashold for cigarettes. (always a half one)
Smoke it.
Go inside.
Check for note (there never is one)
Get in bed
wait for sleep (always hard)
Wake up.
Wait for phone call (there never is one)
Commence life.