The harsh shine of day kills my buzz,
making my brain fuzzy like a lost kitten.
Wanna come back to the nighttime;
its lights shine on too brightly,
leading all the tipsy drunk girls home.
They are so smitten, stoned & stung
by those cool people in the crowd
with bruised egos & chapped lips,
shaking their hips to the music,
fueled with vodka lubricants &
lemon mints, waiting for love
to come get them, or watching love
leaving them by the back door,
wondering what could have been—
& then, once again, I’m glad to
hang out with you, as you
carry me home again, when
all the weird noises die down,
in this town where the good kids
stay in, where once again,
we can all feel safe again.