waiting for morn…

so quiet at night…not a sound…train did not wail…sirens did not sing…no voices calling out in the darkness…just silence…type of silence where you know something’s happening…maybe not in your part of town…but somewhere…

maybe a drunk closing the bar at three a.m. …staggering home to nothing but a color t.v. and a hotplate…a small refrigerator with nothing in it…crackers in the cupboard…an empty jar of peanut butter…a used tea bag wrapped in string sits on the night stand next to a copper cup…

mom staying up late…sitting in pitch black…looking at streetlights and remembering when her baby used to play ball on winter nights til his hands bled…shooting hoops in games of horse…being called in for dinner where they prayed ‘fore every meal…prayed that there would be food the next night and the night after that…prayed for a man whose chair was always empty…prayed…just prayed…

a boy wandering ’round a truckstop…far away from home…picking his pockets for loose change…eyeing truckers as they ate their cornbeef hash…eggs over easy…smothered in some thick gravy…the way mom used to make for him on Saturday mornings while pop read the paper and his sister slept-in…some suburban dream dancing in his head…a voice telling him to go…wander ’round this country of ours…discover america…find yourself…waiting it out for one more ride…

cops at the IHop…drinking pots of coffee and listening to their radios…gas station hold up on the Southside of town…a domestic on Lafayette…some junkie being taken to the emergency room…another deer hit out on 24…

and it was just another night…just another night…sat in silence…in the dark…waiting…waiting for morn…

Published by: dmseay

The writing is based on my surroundings and what I've been surrounded by. This language is coarse and politically incorrect; which I make no apologies for. These characters are not nice and to use any other dialogue would be disingenuine. That being said, I choose to roll the dice. dm seay

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