The Last Person Awake

“You are listening to Radio Midnight. For everyone still awake, I am right here with you.” The clock above the window says twelve seventeen. The streets are shining black beneath the rain. Our first caller says her husband left last winter. She still cooks for two out of habit. She asks me if the hurt will ever disappear. I tell her time is kind when you let it be. She thanks me for listening. Then the line goes dead. So I turn another record, And watch the empty phone. There must be someone listening. I cannot be alone. I am the last person awake tonight, Talking to a city that turned out every light. I keep the music playing so I do not hear my heart, Because silence knows exactly where the lonely people are. I am the last person awake tonight, Waiting for a voice that says, “You will be alright.” One thirteen in the morning. A young man calls from somewhere near the station. He says he has been driving without a destination, Because his apartment feels too quiet now. He asks me how you know when love is really over. I tell him love is over when you stop pretending. He laughs like he understands. I think I hear myself inside his voice. So I raise the studio volume, And let the saxophone cry. There must be someone out there. There must be a reason why. I am the last person awake tonight, Talking to a city that turned out every light. I keep the music playing so I do not hear my heart, Because silence knows exactly where the lonely people are. I am the last person awake tonight, Waiting for a voice that says, “You will be alright.” Two forty-six. The producer went home hours ago. The cleaning woman waved through the glass, But she did not come inside. The red telephone rings again. A man says he has spent his whole life Helping strangers survive the night. He says he knows the perfect words for everyone, Except the person in his own mirror. I ask him his name. He says mine. I check the lines. No calls are waiting. No lights are blinking anymore. The voices in the headphones Were only echoes from before. I gave them names. I gave them stories. I told them they would make it through. But every lonely stranger Was another version of me talking to you. I am the last person awake tonight, Talking to a city that turned out every light. I kept the music playing so I would not hear my heart, Because silence knows exactly where the lonely people are. I am the last person awake tonight, There was never any caller on the other side. I have been answering myself beneath this fading light, Waiting for my own voice to say, “You will be alright.” I am the last person awake tonight. The last person awake tonight. Someone tell me I will be alright. “This is Radio Midnight. Thank you for staying with me.”