it begins to rain

you can't sleep, so
you drive all night
around the city,
out into the hellish
suburbs and back,
with most of the world
asleep.
truck drivers and bored
cabbies
cruise up next to you,
and nod.
the traffic lights
keep changing for
no one.
a few junkies
are on the corner.
a hooker or two
getting one last trick
in before the sun
comes up. the homeless
are on the steel
steam grates, head
on their concrete
pillows dreaming
of childhood. you keep
driving, into
the moonlight, away
from the moonlight.
the shadows are dark
hands, the pink street
lights are pale
and without hope.
the trucks drop off
their bundles of paper
onto the corners.
the cops are asleep
in their squad cars,
black brimmed hats
tilted down over their
bloodshot eyes.
it's the amnesty
of early morning. a
truce between good
and evil although each
is not far from
being the same. you
drive all night,
turn on your wipers,
turn down the radio.
it begins to rain.