1 AM

At a time when most are in bed, you drive
through the city,
the lights of bars and late night diners call you,
their promise of anonymous oblivion
a siren song for you,
your head too full of thought
to do more than aim the car
home.

About this poem

The picture was taken last night in Albany, after visiting a parishioner in the hospital. My mind was too full of thoughts. So full I was not really thinking of anything, more like just letting the thoughts battle it out in my head.

I stopped at a light, and more on reflex than consciousness, picked my camera off the car seat and took this picture, not knowing why until this morning, as the words came.

Tom