Goodnight

 The fact that I made it to the bike shop poetry night shows that I am loved

For I would not have ridden into the dark expanse without the two batteries for my bike light from my roomate

Or from the careful instructions of one of my best friends over the phone

Guiding me east, over the train tracks and into the lampless unknown

And I would not have known of the place and the time without a friend to inform me of it

And I would have had no one to share cider and cookies and poetry with if not for the kindred spirits I found there 

And when my night of laughter and burning cold fingertips and hours of standing together and then sitting together with our sugar coated orange zest tongues finally came to an end:

A text from my mother,

"Goodnight. I love you."