The house is sleeping
as I steal out into the night,
my body tingling with the
anticipation of what awaits me.
I drive these familiar streets,
and see through new eyes
every turn, every curve,
carrying me closer to the object
of my desire.
I pull into the empty space,
feeling the tug of destiny
that brought me to the very front of the row.
The stars shine their jealous blessing
down on our encounter.
As your doors glide silently open,
the glare from within nearly spoils our intimacy,
but passion prevails.
No fluorescent blaze can disturb
the solitary promise
of your waiting aisles.
I choose carefully from the long row of carts
finding the machine I can guide
effortlessly, uninhibited, recklessly
up and down your vibrant corridors.
And so I glide, smoothly,
keeping pace with the rhythm of my own heart,
unencumbered by the whining demands of the day.
I draw the final thin line
through the map of our tryst,
sealing my conquest
and my fate.
I arrive at checkout,
leery of the intrusion of conversation,
yet satisfied at the completion
of our delicate rendezvous.
As I make my way back home
throughout the darkened streets,
I feel you slipping from me,
becoming a dream that I greedily clutch
and commit to memory.
I know we'll meet again,
but the uncertainty of when
is a vaguely unsettling contrast
to the warmth of the night.
I rest a moment in the driveway,
listening to the last refrains of unrequited love
floating through the ether to my radio,
breathing deeply as I stare
into the darkened windows,
a fraudulent picture of repose
that will vanish with the early light of dawn.
With renewed strength,
I return to the company
of those who I love so well,
but who know me so little.