There’s a calm in the early morning hours…while it’s still dark outside…a quietness…no cop cars cruising…nor ambulances racing…fire trucks have been put away for the night…young birds chirping…saying they’re hungry…they sing out…softly…

And…there is no train going through town at this hour…no diesels putting on air brakes…the mad mad men of back alleys are fast asleep…tortured by dreams and fantasies of getting old…dying in the streets…lovers gone years ago…alone…to die alone…

It is so late…so early in the morn…a waitress at the truck stop pours black coffee while voices carry throughout the night…,Number 23…your shower is ready…,a fat man stumbles to a stall to wash his sins away…a woman he picked up in Tulsa…running from something…aren’t we all…

It is early…or late…and my heart aches for you…goodnight…