i guess i did

i'm done
for the night,
yes i am

drinking a beer
under the
half shell

of a moon

eating
homemade
potato—salad.

i sigh.

fatigued,
afraid of
any
afterthought.

of some curling
emotion,

a
seed peeling
from under
the gum.

of sticky goo
dried
in globs
along
the floor.

of sleeping
in dribbled
wet spots.

of wanting the night
to stop back there,

two hours turned,

when your hair
fell across my neck
and swept

the loneliness
back into the
street.