A sweet suspense at-
taches to the night,
on this eve of such
privations as we
wager we can stand.
A little more sport-
ingly, myself, I in-
dulge a single toss-
ing of a cap I never
wore, to see who'll
chase it down.
Next time, I keep
saying, lose it.
The coming night
was pulsing with
excitement - and
look, over there,
fires were encir-
cling the City.
John Rechy
The Coming of
the Night
Grove Press, 1999©
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