There is a time
between the appropriate hour for sleeping
and complete abandon
an hour or two between respectability
and three cups of coffee.

I'm watching the minutes
flicker in the bottom right corner of my screen
there is a hazy sort of
beauty in this in-between,
where my eyelids
heavy and dark
pull taut and wide
my house is so quiet I'm afraid
to breathe or even
type,
hunched over the keys
in translucent
artificial light.

The hour
or two,
is passing from me and winking like a star on its path
to nowhere.
It occurs to me
that I should sleep,
that I'll be tired for work,
that my head aches from
the electronic glow.
But still I sit and wait for some revelation
in the half reality
of this in-between.

But it's late,
it's past,
and now I have to go.