as soon as I got home I knew.

It's going to be awhile before I sleep
and I want to be out of these clothes.
my feet stick to the floors as i pass
from room to room, living to hall,
hall to bath, bath to kitchen.
We are night people, and I play
with the words on the fridge
and keep things to myself. I let the
boards creaking under my toes do the
talking for me, but they rarely
make any sort of sense. But then again,

      neither do I.