When it's late at night and I turn off all the lights I often stand in the darkness and wait for
magic. Because, like magic, my eyes adjust, and in a few moments what was
pitch black becomes gradually clearer. Forms,
shapes in shadows-become furniture and walls. Dark windows become
transparent again and bright with the light of other houses,
moonlight or car beams. Colors emerge and I can tell the difference between the brown hands on the hanging clock and the bright green numbers on the microwave:
1:04
Outside, I can see clouds drift across the sky in front of the stars, high above houses and trees-dancing across the horizon. Small jewels of white light in between the blinking reds and greens of low flying planes.
Everything is clearer late at night, in the dark. The silence accentuates the contrasts. Of course, if someone would turn on a light, I would be blinded-and the person flipping the switch could see everything I missed.
I would be left there, leaning against a wall, eyes squinting. Lost in the light defensless. A forgetful vampire at dawn.