like you,
into dreams through which he wanders
among austere columns supporting highways
high
above him; concrete & steel temples
in which he alone worships
at this hour.
In the silence he believes
he hears
the gentle tones of your voice. Then again
as he watches a car's red lights vanish into the distance
a moment before he turns the key.
His bag slips into an indifferent bundle
in the dark
and with his hand poised over the electric switch
everything becomes clear.
I can't lie anymore
In the dark the ticking
of a clock on the wall
is amplified
by each
successive
second
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