"My name," I say.
And the moon's a cheap tab Burning on my tongue Three nights climbing up the ladder Now the bottom rung
High on the asphalt, high on the ache High on the promise that I'll never break But I'm cracked, I'm leaking, I'm wide awake Night high 3 — for heaven's sake night high 3
I look down. In my left hand: a key. In my right: a wedding ring. Neither one fits me.
Passed a church, passed a pawn shop shrine Passed a face that looked like mine He said: "Third night's the one where you forget to lie" I said: "I never learned how — that's why I'm still alive" "My name," I say
Night high 3, come set me free Or chain me to the radio frequency I don't care which — just make it mean Something more than the in-between
The city don't sleep — it just recharges rage. Third night, same curb, same shattered gauge on my wristwatch — time stuck at 2:11, when the false dawn leaks like a secret from heaven. In my right: a wedding ring
High on the absence. High on the ache. High on the promise the morning will break like a bone, like a bottle, like a lease I can't sign. This is night high three — and the low is divine. The first two nights, the rush was clean. Night high 1: rooftop, downtown, wind carving through my ribs. I watched a murder and didn't flinch. Night high 2: tunnel chase, flickering lights, a briefcase full of stolen hard drives. My hands didn't shake.