watching and keeping time

i'm on my tiptoes, even though it hurts. i don't mean to be sneaking up on you like this, but sometimes it's impossible to find my way without taking a few chances. i can see, just over your fence, that something must be happening, because there's a light flickering and some voices that just drift far enough to meet my ears. i have an invitation with my roommate's name on it, and you have to admire the care with which i preserved it, given that it had been left with the trash last night. my key, which i am reluctant to use tonight. for whatever reason, i thought it might be fun to stop sulking and make an effort to get to know you. there's only so much dirt one can examine, so many patterns in the carpets of our mutual friends, before it grows inevitably old. i had a song in mind i wanted to share with you. it's not famous at all, since i basically jotted it down in my sleep. it's funny how memories elude us when they're so important; my brain is stuck going over and over the same things until they break like those belts your mechanic likes to replace. it wasn't such a bad song either, and maybe this morning i could have hummed the tune. by now your phone should be ringing. walk over here for a minute, leave that torch-lit yard, and you might still hear it echoing in my ears.