Deep within a damp alleyway, the worker gathers his coat
and walks swiftly into the crisp air of a late fall night.
Above him, the stars twinkle restlessly from light-years away,
illuminating the path before him as he hurries home.
Around him, in heated homes and comfortable beds,
the city people are lazy and tired,
shifting into monotonous nightly routines
of teeth-brushing and pajama-wearing.
Beneath him, the ground stirs and then settles
as his feet briskly tap along the surface of the dirtied cement.

The worker does not focus on what is in front of him -
the empty roads that amplify his sense of foreboding,
the street lights that make ordinary objects seem to stew in shadowy evil,
the lonesome cars littered along street curbs, looking abandoned
without a person in the driver's seat -
instead, he catches a cloud and drifts home,
to where his children sleep in bundles of soft cotton,
illuminated by the hazy light of a distant hallway.

From there, he glides silently into the living room,
where his wife is wrapped tightly in fleece blankets,
awaiting his arrival.
Her body soaks in the warmth of a nearby fireplace;
her eyes gaze into the flames thoughtfully.
Her sweet, kind face is contoured by shadow,
but glows from the gentle light of the fire.

Carefully, the worker floats into the seat
beside his wife on the ottoman,
but she shows no sign of any awareness of his presence,
continuing to watch the flames flicker.
At long length, she relaxes
and reclines along an arm of the sofa,
legs stretched out before her.
Her eyes close and her breathing slows,
and the worker believes that his wife has entered sleep.
With a feeling of satisfied content, he hovers above her
and watches her chest continuously rise and fall ever so slightly.
Her body, once young, giggling and bold,
has now blossomed into one of mature, refined beauty.

The worker catches a small glimpse of unshielded skin
exposed by the low cut of her womanly dress
and remembers the first time she let him hold and touch her,
her cheeks burning pink with excitement and lust.
He remembers the gentle curves of her body,
the silkiness of her pure skin,
and the small gasps she made into his ear as he caressed her.
He remembers the late nights spent at her bedroom window,
away from home, from his unknowing parents,
from where he should have been.
He remembers the tears that peaked
along the edges of her eyes,
intermingled with the joy and happiness of marriage
and a sense of forever,
as she spoke those fateful two words.

And here she is now, his wife,
dutifully awaiting his return home
while his body lies stripped and motionless,
face down on the dirtied cement.