Two A.M. Poem

I walk through
a parking lot
at 2 a.m.
and see two young men
hand a cigarette
back and forth.
There is a full moon;
I'd like to
howl out
into darkness
like a wild animal,
but I can't
seem to move my lips.
I walk home,
alone,
in silence.
I crawl into
an empty bed
and think of
the shape
of your lips.
Are you lying
in bed
alone
out there, too?