::Night Traveler's Interlude::

"As you enter this life
I pray you depart
With a wrinkled face
And a brand new heart"

~U2, "Love and Peace or Else"













I slide into the soft velour. It's
a balmy night, so I leave
the AC off and roll the windows
down. Between gears, I tug

at the elastic band, and with a
shake and a ruffle my hair is
loose. I grit my teeth to the
seductive beat while the needle

stretches its long arm. The
pul-sa-ting speaker felt pounds
against its metallic torso,
accompanying the shadows

dancing across the dashboard, as I
hook a curl of hair from the
corner of my mouth where it has
stuck to the wetness, while words

roll off my tongue and green lights
snap taut cords. My fingers tighten
around the wheel, and I
miss my turn. I feel like

redlining on an empty tank, taking
any road wherever it leads,
leaving the windows open
in a downpour, breathing

weightlessly. But my car takes the second
turn into my neighborhood where windows
have closed their eyes for the night,

and the music crouches in submission
to the smattering of softly lighted
bedrooms. Certain the clicking
of my heels against the sidewalk

will wake a light sleeper, I walk
on my toes, while attempting to
appear that I’m not. The warm air
caresses my bare arms, and

crickets serenade me with their
nocturnal opus as I unlock the
door and pause before I leave
the evening behind me and enter

my 72-degree domain, where I
fall asleep on the couch
with the TV on and
my teeth un-flossed.