Night Before Our Last

so what if this is when the stars align
again, or strike us like hot iron
in fire, or alive like a newborns cry in
the middle of the day.

that first night before our last was the
cosmos on my side, and crashing down
damn for not knowing when to give up or in
or drift away down river.

what if we could make an apology pact
last and light up the bar with our smiles,
raise the dead again with laughter
from below our chests.

the men behind the bar could be driving
us home or toward anything in reality
downward dogs aside, we walk under the
neon lights begging our company

and the concrete groans for our heels
to clack upon it’s face; what the hell is
the night for if we can’t follow it
home and back again? if ever town home

is lit ‘till two and the porch swings
sway for our pleasures. wonder if it
matter who sees us out together again
what hairs will rise on the back of

friends necks, we’re making the music
of heaven again while we wander waterfront
bars and benches. while we find a rhythm in
our steps, knowing never what comes next.