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at one thirty on a thursday night |
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I saw a pair of raccoons heading to the gutter |
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they stopped at the storm drain |
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their tails hung down and out of sight |
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they looked up at me |
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their eyes were shining |
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I thought of you |
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and I can't stand the way the moon expands and fills out |
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the corners of your california sky |
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I can't stand it |
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the old buildings stood tall against the sky |
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the windows had old sheets hanging over them doubling as curtains |
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and the silhouettes moving in the bright lights behind the curtains |
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looked like you |
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I stopped moving momentarily |
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the world will |
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stand still on nights like these |
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without any kind of warning |
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and I can't stand it. |
