A clear warm spring night, a cloudless sky bright with stars.
Couples holding hands out for a stroll, singles doing their laundry.
An occassional lucky dog out for a potty break or just a jaunt.
The night holds possibilities.
A white computer screen soon to be filled with amazing thoughts and ideas.
Or maybe, a sullen blank page with an acccusatory blinking cursor.
Fingers dashing at lightening speed to keep up with the stream of consciousness that comes pouring out of an intelligent mind.
Idle hands that linger above the keyboard hoping they have a job to fill tonight.
The hours linger and the possibilities remain.
Full bottles of JB Black, bags of ice stacked up in the freezer, and glasses at the ready.
Six packs of diet coke out on the counter waiting to mingle with their boozy pals.
A final attempt to add something meaningful to another month's issue.
A dog whining on the bed, looking longingly at a set of earplugs lying on the nightstand,
Forgetting the havoc the last one swallowed caused her intestinal tract.
Yet, the possibilities still exist.
The hours pass and the sun starts to rise over a new day.
The ashtray is overbrimming with too many dark knights and a spicy haze lingers in the apartment.
Sitting in an otherwise desolate sink sits a sticky glass with a few stubborn ice cubes that refuse to give in.
A completed poem is all that is left of the previous night of possibilities.