Alone At 10 O'Clock

Alone At Ten O'Clock

I have had too much coffee,
Because I was automatically drinking it for hours
Just because it was there, in front of me, and, well,
I'd hate for it to go to waste.

The quiet of the neighborhood seems heightened.
This isn't a rough part of town, it's pleasant,
Gentle, with an elementary school a block away.
I am seized by a need to play on the swings,
But a young man in the darkness on a swing set
Tends to arouse questions that fill me with paranoia.

Still, the swings beckon, even from my bedroom
Where a thousand other distractions lie.
It must be wonderful to feel the night on your face,
I think, like flying. The metaphor is too simple,
But the image stays, of flinging yourself into space,
Back and forth, safe in the grip of gravity and the wind.

I harbor a fantasy that I will go to that playground,
In the evening, when it's raining, with a girl I love
And we will waltz around the asphalt like movie characters
As the camera spins and heightens everything, making whispers
Into quotes to be tacked on posters.

She isn't here now, and I am convinced that the swings
However inviting, cannot be visited 'til she comes back again.
It is a strange thing, to sit and feel someone else in your cells,
And to know that she is tied to the outside world as well,
To the rain and the night and the swings.

Perhaps, if it rains tomorrow, I will go to the swings.
When she comes back again I know I shall.
But rain is seldom seen in summer,
So I will wait for the rain, and the night, and her,
Until all three collide with me at 10 o'clock some misty winter night.