maybe it's the way
the wind feels
in the dark;
different and breathless

or the light
that bounces off of the
wet streets;
blurry and reckless

regardless,
midnight is the only time
that she gets in her car
and allows herself
a dose of tears, a drop of laughter

because feeling
is a little easier
in a private metal death chamber
surrounded by
broken beauties and unfulfilled dreams

when there is no point b
and point a
is just a fragmented memory