Oakland's night scoffs at silence in the dark
crescendoes of machines and voices lost
as a forest obscures the turning leaf
and a single drop is lost in the rain...
airplanes, autos, voices; the silence rocks
in you, and me, and we before the dawn.

Blending in to the black hole of not-dawn
loud silence sucks at lights that are not dark.
It is a noise-full quiet that rolls and rocks
through my window. I’m lusting to be lost
after too many house days in the rain
and I think of a slow-falling sun-bled leaf

of the travelling and landing of the leaf
thinking of what might be done before dawn.
I drive my car in the covering rain
that shines on the streets in the not-so-dark
of the city. I seek lust with a lost
greyhound bus station stranger; the night rocks.

Rows of fixed-to-the-floor chairs; the room rocks.
It is too light. I smell stale cigar leaf.
My stomach fists as I look to be lost,
coveted, and used for sex before dawn.
But the room’s open, too light, I need dark...
the bathroom glares. I smell desperate rain

Rut-rank rain; a man appears from the rain
I can see only his black face, he rocks
smiling in to focus...all else is dark
I think of the spinning dark fall of leaf
the fear of violence alone before dawn
my fault if I risk desire and am lost

“looking for a woman?” he asks. I’m lost.
I don’t want to talk with a pimp in the rain
“I don’t have any money,” I feel dawn
coming; passion dives hard; reality rocks
“I’ll buy, you can have seconds...” bluff blown leaf
“ok ,” afraid to say no in the dark

“I’ll be right back...have to get something from the car”
my lust is lost in the dark run in the rain, dark fear rocks,
the leaf dives and I’m gone before lust's dawn.