Night, Folks

It’s a weird thing to write poems
For folks who hate to read poems
Or won’t like these, won’t read these,

Poems that know and may straight state
That the folks who do read poems
And the folks who don’t read poems

Are all small, brief kinds of lives
Lived on a small world of life
That has to spin through the night.

It’s a weird, dumb thing to want
To write poems straight to the night,
Poems that could chat with the lights

And side-step the folks and lives,
When folks are lives, and it’s just
The folks who read poems at night.