After Having Written Poems Late At Night... Poem by RIC BASTASA

I see her turning off the light
on the table. I can see gray.
I hear her
folding the books and
crumpling the papers
perhaps her drafts
of a letter or
a composition.
I see her stand, leave the chair and the table,
and i hear the closing of the door.
everything turns dark.

i imagine her lying in bed
she closes her eyes

i know that the light inside the room
is open.

as usual the TV is on with no one watching.
i just know it. It is a habit
and it has become a practice and that
when i follow, i must be felt
when i turn off the light
and when i turn off the TV.

I know she is awake.
But i do not mind

we all pretend we are alive and that
we want to sleep.

we fall on the same mistake.
we sleep always late, and we do not talk about it.

i put my hands around her body.
she tilts her body and finds her own direction towards the path to

her own dreams
not mine.