Overtime

The window unit is rattling its teeth

against the frame, so I slide the glass up

just to hear the actual night.

Three streets over, a kid is still awake,

pounding a rhythm into the driveway

that feels like a pulse in the wrong place.

The thud is heavy and slow,

followed by the rattle of the chain-link

shivering when the rim says no.

He's out there playing against the dark

long after the porch lights have gone out.