maybe Midnight

tripping over yellow cords halfway taped down to the carpet
but this happens in the future so i cannot forget it yet.
dipping a silver spoon into the lemon pudding of an august sun
sounds sweeter than it is... like a soda with no fizz.
No one deserves less than a warm kiss on a night like this.
slipping away from the normal, the conform-ative process
tripping, falling to the floor and it hurts
but not as bad as wearing black ties or Hawaiian shirts.
and still i want more:
i want the white hat, the horse, the sunset, and the girl.
while night shines across a wide window sill from
the shattered shipwreck of a blue moon,
summer is finally ebbing with the slow inevitably of oncoming sleep,
maybe midnight will bring a sweet presence of darkness
moving across the face of the deep,
spirits all riled up, Genesis-style.
and maybe midnight will come soon.

8.12.2008