Rest

three thirty in the morning and the world has abandoned me
pavement is a magnet keeping me close and i could drive this route
in my sleep
i am driving sleep-bound, now.

streetlights are mothers watching over everything
church signs and bright green plaques fathers
offering up advice and direction
and abandoned buildings weep as you
drive past.

cohen and sexton are singing me home and i would live in their words
let their voices tuck me in at night
and wake me in the morning
if i could
they are the space below your shoulder
where i rest.

the house lights burning draw me in
life is here
and i am home
and in my sleep
i hear cohen's violin.

when the sun comes up
the music doesn't stop.