last night

street light paints the trees yellow
and the beer is only halfway gone
and it's a stomach ache, 1:01 am.
from the corners of my eyes i catch
glances of all the things that aren't
there

and i wait for impending removal from the void
of where i'm seated. i'll be ready in the morning

but i think back to brushes and glances
pushing, pulling. the light tug of honesty

as the last beer empties, i look back to the street light
with its glare, there is what wasn't there again
too nervous to stay awake