And I Am Happy At 2am

Strange sprinklings of salted stars
bounce from the night sky
and float on the black bay
before me.  I sit

under the tree that reflects myself,
as the water reflects the night sky
over my wooden bench.
I have escaped.

But not too far into
my own world that I don’t want to
observe the outside from my inside
of words and graces
perfection and gray spaces.

The star-sprinkled water
keeps me there
in voluntary captivity,
forced slave of my private thought.

The water keeps me there
and I am happy at 2am.
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