As He Stares

he stares into the blank rectangle of night
making out thin shapes,
there are those that sleep all around him,
she is one,
he is without, not sexless, but;
many are the disembodied sounds
unkempt out and down and below,
where do they all go and why, he thinks,
is there anything left to accomplish, it is so late
and work is done and day is done too and only
will come again and again and like this again,
she is smiling beside him in dream,
just vibrating colors indigo violet black blotches,
there is a film of light glimmer from the street lamp
reflected off the telephone pole transformer,
in the morning you'll be gray, he thinks,
and you and you and I will be gray also, but not yet,
now you are nothing I can see or be or have,
he holds her tight,
good night, she says, go to sleep,
you know it's getting late, as
he stares into the blank rectangle of night