There are things that happen in the night

While Count Basie plays his jazz 

In the velvet deep,

Under the cover and under the influence 

Of dark liqueur and chocolate and the moon

Which gives a stylish mystique to things.

Women with their long cigarettes 

And svelte dresses cut to here,

Slink amidst the whiskey drinkers

To find their commissar.

But if you find yourself in such a humble, human need,

That, in broad daylight, 

You might breed in the street,

Like a dog in heat,

And make your rhymes

Like Funny Valentines,

Then will your zygote this be born,

As healthy as it can possibly be,

And in an animalistic, hearty way.

Because the hormones raged at noon

To full bloom,

And all cylinders will fire at once for this child,

A natural wonder, who will wander free,

Without facade or simile.

He, or she, will be so strong,

Possibly aspire to be a vagabond 

Or a poet.

And by this feat of glorious love,

you will know,

That whether by night or by the day,

Life has a way of living on,

And all is well,

And all will be,

Even with, or without you,

Even with, or without me.

-jenn