Late Night
by Dawn Richerson
Tuesday, February 19, 2002
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Purely self-indulgent verse from a chronic insomniac.
11:29 p.m.
Too much caffeine, I suppose,
has brought me to this.
I play Tetris, try, try
to forget about you. It’s about
time, isn’t it? Time, sweet
time, that passes me by.
11:43 p.m.
Leno laughs at his own jokes,
shrugs one shoulder, says, “I
don’t know; maybe it’s me…”
But maybe it’s me, Jay. Really,
I’m the one without timing,
who can’t let go, move on.
12:27 a.m.
Train sings “Drops of Jupiter,”
here on Earth T.V.; I wonder
what time it is on Mars.
Burgundy on my nails looks like
Elvira, mistress of the night. I wish
I may I wish I might.
1:13 a.m.
Now that I’ve seen the lovable
Irish idiot do his stupid dance, one
would think that I could sleep.
My two dogs look up, puzzled, walk
in circles on my bed, check to see
if I am still awake.
2:31 a.m.
I’ve played twenty games of Boggle
with decreasing success. Next time I’ll
reach my personal best
And then, then I’m sure, in
blissful moment of perfection,
time will let me forget.
3:33 a.m.
I have taken to remembering
every last syllable you spoke
that day my world went dark.
Your voice fills my mind,
void now of reason or thought.
“Goodnight, love. Go, now, go.”
But you stay the night, make me
forget ticking time. Full of you,
I close my eyes to dream.
Copyright 2002, Dawn Richerson
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