You’re the new guy so you work the graveyard shift
and the boss has finally gone home.
You can smoke a cigarette in peace,
no sneaking around the corner.
The garbage trucks clean up the streets.
You watch the last of the drunk girls stumble out,
some go home alone,
some fight with their phones.
The city is finally yours.
Just a faraway hum of an ambulance,
no taxi horns,
no one is left to ask anything of you.
And the soft grey clouds
reach over the low tenements
like an exhale of breath,
and if you listen closely
you can almost hear god in the silence
whispering the resonance of something you used to know by heart
but can’t quiet remember.
Image by timhowgego
Scott Laudati lives in NYC with his boxer, Satine. He is the author of Hawaiian Shirts In The Electric Chair. Visit him @ www.scottlaudati.com.