Last Night

It's 3 am in 5 minutes.
The fog outside silks the black coffee night and it makes the thin brittle cold air thick in peoples exhaustion. The moon glows unaware of the clinking, clanking clatter the relentless swept dead Autumn leaves of yesterday so quietly create.

What a simple existence. The moon knows of no jealousy. The leaves know of no perversion.

I stand feeling the density of the dim porch light knowing both.