wandered over the midnight
demarcation line, and in but
a few secs, it will click,
1:00am in my head
in the not so mystical
Eastern Standard Time Zone

and I hear voices saying,
Last Call, Last Call,
drink up, write down
those faint sounds,
that have yet not drowned,
succumbed to drowsy purrings
that the body is steady making,
a chorus of yawns and sighs,
time's due, you pay at the exit door

Succumb!
succumb, for no one,
will read this good nitro night poem,
anyway

give in to temptation and risk,
will it be,
nightmare or dream,
poem or horror story,
sleep yet brings us,
gift wrapped  
or
brown bagged


Last call, last call
I am a summer man
and soon I to bid you adieu,
as I board my sleepy
summertime cruise