Long after midnight, after goodbye
I drive on home under this shallow sky
Daughter of the hunger moon
She runs bare hands
'round these darkened rooms
Convince myself I like being alone
Three in the morning, while I fix some toast
and Earl Grey tea with too much honey
Feed the cats, drink some wine,
run a very deep bath
And write a few poems
with the refrigerator magnets
Time itself is crystallized
Do I listen to my heart my body or my mind?
To love, to lust or to analyze
To hear these shy conflicting cries?
There's always someone left unfed
The aching belly or the vacant bed
It's hard to get these hungers straight
Always something over which to fixate
It's hard to hear what's really being said
I wish I could live outside my head
It's hard to keep them all well fed
To find soul, to make love, to be well read
