Ode to Dusk’s Nightly Strolls

Dusk greets me with crushed velvet kisses

and I am always a sucker

for her charismatic laughter–

the sound of glasses clinked together

for one more shot of whiskey.

I wonder if she keeps her promise

and returns home before the sky

gets as dark as an empty hallway

or if she wanders the city as a lone echo

plucking broken hearts 

hanging in doorways or from window sills.

If she collects all the names

of the people that are carved out from the shadows

of the people that don’t make it home by morning.

I wonder if she plasters their missing flyers

all over her body and wears their names

as armor against the night full of prying eyes and pawing hands

while she takes her nightly stroll with key sharp claws ready to strike.

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