Past Midnight

Nothing but this: a night clerk looking displaced
a fish wide-eyed poking against glass
both sharing the reception desk

silence is the medium the man stares blind
iron keys on iron hooks each holding a secret

swoosh: the door a half dozen footsteps
a few broken words the jingle of #34

a staircase thunders and here just here
for the first time the man considers
alternatives: undertaker cheesemonger
perhaps even a sailor

his cigarette tip glows incandescent
his eyes: dancing