OUTSIDE LIGHTS

The soft white bulb seemed diffused
And eaten by the dawn,
As daylight weakened the brightness
Of its photons…
I’d risen late that morning
And every simple task from toeing in my slippers
And brewing coffee seemed out of place
By 8 AM, as if this day put everything
Out of order.
Curiously, I felt no more rested
And at ease than I always did at 4 AM,
As everything felt like looking back
To find the long gone water past the bridge.
They had cheated me as I cheated them
Of things which were not to be repeated…
It was Sunday of a three-day weekend
When I rushed to fill the middle day
With things gone earlier on.
Perhaps I seemed to remember to
Shut the porch light off
Even as I smiled, while thinking,
It would come alive again in several hours.
It’s at times like this I force myself
Into an afternoon shower,
To start the day from that time on
Feeling no loss from the sleep which
Stole the brightness of the 100 watt light bulb.

Ken Siegelman
Brooklyn Poet Laureate
March, 2007