some nights are just perfect.

some nights are just perfect, when i'm too awake, too filled with adrenaline and happy drunk headed with love that i know i won't be able to ever fall asleep, so i slide back into the clothes i wore to class today, my skin smelling like your skin and i slide into my shoes and carry my bike down a flight of stairs, over the wet grass, and start on to campus. i'm printing things now, but before, i was riding the first mile to campus at full tilt, pedaling as fast as i could, passing cars as i was going up hills. i was soaring with my little canvas eagle shoes, fast as bird, fast as eagles, fast as pallas athena, on the back of hermes, racing an ambulance and always letting it pass me at the light. some nights are just perfect, with a symphony of crickets and cicadas perched in the wet trees, my own lungs keeping time, sucking in cool night air that just moments ago made all the hairs on the back of my knees stand up, just like you did, nuzzling your face to mine, moments ago. some nights are just perfect, passing only cars on their way to deliver pizzas or filled with people on their way home from already closed fast food restaurants. the main streets quiet, the side streets quieter, the town with a quiet breeze and then a false warmth sliding across the cobblestone thud thud thud on my jet rocket. the campus is warm from all the lights, the false security, the keeping up appearances, the safety notices to parents and alumni's donations. but it is not unpleasant, this quiet, this warm hum of electric lights and cicadas and any second a public announcement over newly installed loudspeakers. it is one of those just perfect nights because of you, because of becoming you, because of being wrapped in and around and outside and next to you and knowing that my sheets will smell like you, too.