Nearly Dawn

troubled again
and sleepless

climbed out
my bedroom window

sat on the eave
jutting out

beneath it
sat in the night

and with it
out on the roof

though maybe
i didnt have 

permission
sat

and begged the night
for a kindness

when she
followed me out

i said to her,

“The small hours
of the morning—
maybe this
is the only time
I feel free,
feel safe—
maybe this
is the only time
I get to be
no one.”

the moon
had long since set

from a sky
that was near

to giving birth
to day

muggy
late summer air

clung to us
like the fuzz

of a waning drunk
mosquitos buzzed

in our ears
vital

desperately alive
the cars, trucks

of the town
were nowhere

ceding the avenues
to the crepuscular

the walkers
in the night

she turned to me
then said

in our privacy
into the quiet

of a night
in which

no one else
existed

she said
to me

in a world
we might

have owned
she and i

together
forever

she said,

“Do you know
how to tell
you’re up
too late?
The traffic lights
stop flashing.”

as if on cue
the light at

the corner
stopped blinking

yellow
it became an

immutable red