He rests his head on the steering wheel While the car is running
The rain outside pounds the beat of a strange funk
He’s tired of the disco.
Outside lights spin blood red and Christmas tree green with an occasional yellow
The yellow doesn’t visit much anymore
We’ve forgotten how to slow down We’ve become too busy swaying round the puddle graced floor.
The time is five and the morning fog hasn’t lifted a lazy finger except to shake me awake.
I’m here, sitting on the shower floor Watching the light pour in from
Behind the rippled glass of a frameless door
The water forms a fall when my palm sides kiss and my wrists are attached at the hip
I know they’re right outside
Sleeping soundly in the warmth of their blankets
Times like this their laughter lingers But the whole world empties except for myself
And this running water
Everything is beyond me
In a thunderstorm of beauty
I’m tired of the disco
But he assures me
We can leave
That this will require patience
It’s important just to breathe
So I do
The world is alive again.