Rosemont, 2 AM

drizzle. cigarette.
letters gone dark
on a hotel sign.
sports bar closing
across the street.

i’ve got no wings, i’ve got
no prayer that will give me
flight. i’ve got an untucked shirt
and no socks. too wired
to sleep, too tired
for anything else. all i want
is to go home, get out
of rosemont.

i know this late i look like hell here,
not that i’m any prize
when i’m home, but
when i’m home i’m not
alone

and for me, 2 AM in rosemont,
whatever else it is about,
is all about being
alone.