Sleeping houses lean together,

By sweeping headlights washed.

So mundane when seen wherever,

So alike they’re left unwatched.

Stuttering neon lights illuminate

The patrolling police cars prowl.

Drive by homes of scared insomniacs,

To reassure them through the hours.

Bad things happen after midnight

When all that alcohol hits home.

Heads should droop and nod, be slumber-filled,

Not by twelve o’clock primed to explode.

Household things grow more significant,

If kitchen knives grow sharp at night.

Sunny smile, the werewolf’s masquerade,

Romantic stroll turns frantic flight.

Sleeping houses lean together,

So lock your doors to keep them out.

Streetlights, they don’t last forever,

Would the cops hear if you shout?

Did her face seem strange when sleeping;

Did his breath deepen to growls?

Company kept is your own business,

Just be sure what’s in your house.



Erik Kaisson, 2017

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