It’s after
As I look out
of my hotel room window,
I see a mountain mist
meandering across
the mall parking lot.
Specks of rain
have peppered my window,
so I play an eye game
by reflecting the street lights
through the spattered pane.
My room’s refrigerator
chirps contentedly
like an Icelandic cicada.
Somewhere,
down the hall,
I hear a subdued television.
I smile
and settle down
to sleep.
I much prefer
my own
secluded
Late Show.
