The movement from evening to even later morning

Classy country songs come quiet on the radio as I drive through the deserted downtown of this town. In a minute or a mile, at least a little while, I will have to not hit college students who brave any weather for that but never think to walk this way in the day. Who could say what they will learn tonight, or which light they will miss when the morning's sun comes? Mostly, I am too old for them, and it is strange for a minute to realize I am one of them. Because in this brain are a thousand swirling thoughts and a casi constant thread of truth like a news track across the bottom of a TV screen, but on the outside, besides the scarf and an inch or two of modesty, I am only a girl who wants someone to love her - someone here, right now - even though she knows better.

Peace

The silence
Of the deep night
Is so much older than me.

Waking Up to Dream Again

All but one of the seats in the on-second-thought luxurious gray car have no present people in them. This makes just enough room for no radio and the glossy water drops on the windowpane in the nighttime, which all of a sudden have a dare-it-be cognizant beauty because of what they might have meant for the future all those years and shedded snake skins of persons ago. And might mean again, or might be found to have always have meant.

This sidewalk is made both for the splattering, dignified pitter-pattering of the raindrops after a thoughtful fall bad-weather day, and the steady step of this black dress shoe. 

And I walk beneath the stars you can't see tonight, and know with a bone-strengthening certainty that they are there and always will be. And that, whether or not he chooses to give them to me, they are mine to have. This is the part where the eyelashes flutter, and I wake up to dream again.

Several quick poems churned out like letters of words in a spelling bee, instead of nervous fingers drumming the table

Una oportunidad

Esperanza

Momento

¿Qué es el reto?

¿Qué es la meta?

Ahora.

Aquí.

___

A boar's head

On the wall.

Too many frames.

Never enough fame

To go around.

 ___

The humor

frustration breeds

is not anything

I want near me.

_____