For Night Travelers

words like beginning and ending are not helpful
the way algae      waves its arms underwater
the taxi        you’re not sure is dreaming
in the steam        of the city night

could be here for you       could be
here for no one        an airport
nothing but another
of night’s paperweights

people coming in and out
of dark strips
all night long

skeezy

 buttering up the stars

The Terror of Waking Up

I like the way language always feels like.
It is getting somewhere. It feels
like waking up. Getting lighter. The smack of dawn.
Against your back.

The dream that ends when you wake up.
Is not insignificant. Think.
It is like an airplane
going down. Because you woke up.
All those unreal people you were.
Just dreaming.

They are suddenly on a plane going down
because you have to go to work.

You senseless monster, go back to sleep.

Save them.

Rescue their unreality!

Your boss will understand.