You were up so late, the sky turned golden, / fingers of light prying open the day while the city slumbers, / so you cut across 30th to get your fill / of pancakes and coffee in the diner near your / old apartment where the sun always woke you by shining in your eyes / and the girl next door was nothing but smiles / but the waitress looks at you funny and you wonder how many hours you’ve been awake / and how is it that there’s no one to notice you / haven’t been home and when / did that happen, when did you / slip out of that life, the life where you would rise / before dawn and not the other way around, not chasing sleep / as the sun comes up—nights full of pretty / girls and men who call you darling / and whatever you do / you will not / cry / sitting in this diner eating your pancakes and / telling yourself, I / will turn things around, I will / right my clock and get a job and sing / all the regular songs about life and love and being good, but first, a / long sleep, so you pay your tab and leave a tip and wander out into the sunlight—horns and jackhammers and grinding machinery waiting to sing you a lullaby.
Notes
After “Golden Slumbers” by Paul McCartney.