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Any Real Night

Any real night
wouldn't be spent at the rundown café
with flickering lights
and cheesy decorations

Any real night
wouldn't have a stale, suffocating odor
torn leather booth seats
and bolted-down stools

Any real night
doesn't taste of yesterday's leftovers cherry pie
or hospital coffee
and last week's burgers

Any real night
isn't a scene with chipped mugs
and bent forks
with ripped placemats

Any real night
isn't restlessly still
with the drip-drip of the coffee makers
and dying sounds of the record player

Any real night
isn't deserted
with an empty parking lot
in the middle of the city

So I drain my hospital coffee
stand up
kick over the once-bolted stool
to leave for a real night

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