I cannot figure out why I am so in love with the night. The city stops. No expectation of commerce -- only the thieves and slugs out doing business. Somewhere across town a DJ adjusts his fly. My bunnies munch their hay and hop back and forth in their cages like springy windup toys. The freeway woosh slows like a misplaced, errant ocean on the pavement. I watch Furgeson flirt back at me from a pixilated screen. Why is night sexier than day? Scary things slither around in the night. I stare at my painted toenails on the brass bedpost. So quiet now, I could scream and someone would notice. The chilly air drops a few degrees and everything is still.