"We spent all day getting sober,
just hiding from daylight,
We just look a lot better in the blue light."
I drove home at 2 a.m. and everyone should be asleep, but they're not.
24 hour convience stores, crowded with truckers and munchie searchers.
Denny's, green light shining on booths full of low faces.
the blue lights of suburban living rooms, quiet streets filled with strangers watching strangers.
I am driving home from her house, and I should be spending the night there, but I'm not. And I should be mad about that, but I'm not.
I have the window rolled down even though it is still in the 80s and the humidity coats the steering wheel and the edge of the window I lean out. I move through traffic. The moon shines through the shaded section of the dashboard like a spotlight-
Who goes there?
I flick through stations, then cut it off just to listen to the buffet from the cars around me. Loud rock, soft jazz, sad country and earnest Gospel. It's too late for so much variety. I wish the night was as quiet and simple as the clouds chasing through the night sky. I wouldn't be staring at the sky if I were in her bed. But she probably would be; up at the window leaning against the frame for a look at Orion's belt. Her windows are never blue, she doesn't own that kind of light.