Puddled city cast in twilight
Nighthawks converge in the night,
watching the gutter-pools speak
of love so bleak.

All night pharmacies with attendant sinners
see refracted stoplight glimmer
stopping them at the auto-door
and causing them to wait a minute more.

Wet residue,
rainbow-hued,
parking lot tarnish
dropping globes do concrete varnish.

Couples of the late night nation
test the charm of their libations.
Laughter carried on waves.
Pen in hand, numbers saved.

Passing cars cast in green,
lingering clouds cause the color scheme.
A bumper-orgy of adhesive paper
with statements to make one feel safer.

My hands safely rest
in stitched fabric nests.
Darling, in three hours you’ll awake
to find my arms have made you safe.

A very unedited version, which I also like:

I love walking out
into a city
covered in the remnants
of earlier rain
the wet puddles look up at me
with the lit eyes of
all night pharmacies and
stoplights taking a break
for the night

Wet residue
combines with parking lot varnish
the way the Gulf looks when it reached
an inlet the width of your shoulders
we are far from the ocean here
but close to the couple laughing heartily
across the street
as they exit a bar
on their way to explore
the effects of libation
on libido

there are three cars passing on the road
here
the faint smell of cigarette smoke
pilfers through the window
of the grey towncar
turned greenish with the cast
of the last storm clouds, it seems
they could be waiting for their friends
or hoping that they are asked home by someone handsome.
the other is decorous in its love of sticky paper
with the aphorisms of truck stops
and your mother’s newspaper clipping habit.
the third has already past.

the damp, the dark, the breeze
makes me glad I have pockets
i love diving my hands deep in the fabric
it is safe and warm
and without knowing it
protective and not weak
to whichever lone fella
dares to take a longer look
than is welcomed
by my soul-piercers.

it is just cold enough this May
to numb the millimetered end of my nose
making me glad i kept
this knit scarf from Germany.
I can see the stoplight return from its break.
and know that you are making breakfast.
maybe oatmeal or a slice of cold pizza from last night’s dinner.