Late into the night we hover
around the coffee table.
Chatter yields to conversation
that takes on a life of its own
descending to levels so deep
that our companions fade off to other places
that hang lighter in the air,
and, once again, you and I are submerged.
Cigarettes burn out, glasses run dry
Now into the wee hours of the morning
just before the sun begins to claim the sky again
wide-eyed, dry-mouthed we plow through the haze
considering the important issues:
Is it always wrong to kill?
Do we really want to be free?
But, most importantly,
Do the vampires (we already determined last week they do exist)
know where we live?