Praying

Opened light fixtures have us all believing it’s day but the clock’s stuck on two and party-goers are bubbling with gladness At this hour, Dark coffee keeps truckers awake but here- coffee merely stains the cathedral, star sky. and music vibrates like strings of christmas lights The night is young for us to worship. On the rooftop- scattered solo cups. On the lawn- stumbling scatter brains. But in the next room, That’s where you can find him. Playing land minds dressed in flannel. I had higher hopes to rope him along, Now I’m in the next room waiting. Catching the but end of jokes. Cracking the wisest lines, and fumbling through short sighted stories. Why is it that when you finally come walking in, I’ll dart my eyes? Why is it that when you finally come waltzing in, I’ll talk to another guy? I guess I’ll mosey my way into the next room, and fall asleep. Why is that?