One Of These Nights

She believes I'm asleep. I fake it well. She never leaves until she thinks I'm asleep. At least I'm spared that humiliation.

The door closes softly and I'm left alone in a bed that's far too large for one. The whir of the ceiling fan is deafeningly loud in the numbing darkness, but still fails to muffle the powerful roar of the motorcycle parked at the end of the gravel road.

I know the type...they're all the same...drifters passing through. But there's plenty more where he came from. I call them her "knights" because I know that's how she sees them. They wear oily jeans and Jerry Garcia tee-shirts instead of armor and they whisk her away on a black-and-silver trusty steed who goes by the name of Harley.

They offer excitement. I'd willingly take her to the local bars and dance halls, even though the music is ear-shattering and the smoke makes my eyes stream. She won't go with me though. Guess I don't provide much excitement. Fact is, I don't think I provide much of anything...except love. Maybe that's not enough for a girl whose heart belongs in the city instead of what she calls "the sticks."

I tell myself a man should stand tall and be a man. One of these nights I'll follow her out that door and confront her. Deliver my ultimatum and to hell with the consequences.

That's what I'll do one of these nights...but not this one.

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