now that the streets are stripped
and keys lock themselves in defiance,
should nudity blind the eyes of minors?
now that the streets are filled with dry tongues
with your hands in your pockets,
We met at a bar in Birmingham on a night
When booze baptized you
And the world lost its shape:
If in my sleep tonight I cut the ropes
And hear not the bell that wakes the day
Say me a prayer
That all may carry my songs to dark
Through my half-open window,
She breezes in unguarded, wearing warmth
As gloves and whistling atonal tunes: Lights out.
My radio sleeps too.