At this hour, what could possibly come to me?

A cat. A mouse. A raindrop. Wool socks. Cocaine in a tiny ziplock bag. Half a cigarette. A fifty dollar bill. A shot of Fernet and a ginger back. Someone's wet umbrella. A hug. And another one. A handshake. Drunken praise. Muttered complaints. Broken glass. An open window. A perforated paper toilet seat cover. A "come hither" look. Genuine thanks. A ride home. A place to crash. The broken-down couch. Alcohol lubricated kisses. Ten bucks for gas. An indecipherable drunk. A cut of the tips. Another dirty glass. A hit of the j. A story. A laugh. A promise not to tell. A great line for a poem. Another story idea. A dream soon forgotten. Pangs of lost love. The comfort of bed. An empty supermarket. A night full of rain. A comforting silence. A minute alone. A song out of nowhere.