By Tony Nesca
When you look out windows at night
through smoke-clouds and tired eyes
and everything shines in that orange streetlight glow
and the rain-soaked skyline’s barely visible in the gloom,
when the distant-lost wander the streets and hatred abounds and the steam from your hot drink hangs
in the air,
when you recede in your mind and all things
fade,
when you reach back to happy times long-gone,
when the deep dark heart of Saturday night
cuts a swath through your brain,
when you realize some of the things people do just ain’t right,
and that some of those people are just
like you,
and the soft drone whisper says something ugly,
and that alone smile forms on your lips in the quiet
happy-dark,
when the sidewalk drinkers bend their elbows
in the rain,
when me and you lost forever meet under the boardwalk,
when happiness sits coldly just around the corner,
when puff number 23 feels mad and brilliant and the words come easy,
when the lost and righteous find something to do and touch themselves in all the right places,
the moment shines bright,
for us,
for you,
and the long cool night is alive
as you realize
that everything –
everything
tastes better
after midnight…
