‘3am’

light was there

for today’s tomorrow,

for tonight’s fetish.

I and she were

Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee,

and she talked about

original light,

the McCoy type.

Mario’s Godfather

bolstered the sights,

for tomorrow’s replacement,

and I nodded assertive,

confirmative,

like a player

of an erratic game,

but moved

even at 3am,

the grease

at 3am.

The game led her astray,

she never looked back,

but,

light is still there,

for today’s tomorrow,

and tonight’s fetish,

and you are there,

and there is no death

and no grief.