It would be impossible to

recall how many times I

have stumbled, laughing

into the lap of the night

I am not short-circuiting,

someone just forgot to press

record (again) as another hour is

sacrificed to the darkness

Do we drink to vanquish

fear and reclaim the night?

(there might just be nothing else

to do in this sad city)

My personal demons find me

at twilight -- I expect them

and surrender my evening to

the itch, saying

"I'm out of regret -- it's all

gone stale since yesterday. Let's

pick up some more" and off

we fly to tomorrow.

Aluminum love is tangible

and carries me through the streets

This city has two faces -- night is

veiled and smirking, only suggesting

any mystery remains for me

to solve.