Tuesday by Alan Dugan

It was cloudy and cool today, and now the sky is very dark. The parking lot behind us is being resurfaced, so all of the cars are gone and the ground is churned up. Perfect time for a moody Tuesday poem, courtesy of Alan Dugan.

There are no lovers in the park tonight. O no. 
Cats have been put out but they don't like it and say so. 
You can hear the telephone wires weeping like poets
in a wind that fingers each nerve end with a separate shiver.

The street lights hang permanently above us like great thinkers.
O their loneliness appalls me and I turn to your brief self,
having seen their incandescence, the dreary landscape of inquiry,
and in it our cold nakedness. It's a bad night, honey, a bad night.

Time to pour some red wine and slip on some cozy socks. Fall is almost here.