Some people are Rest Stops

They treat themselves like way stations for passing faces

Their words disrupt their quiet contemplation

Like the soft buzzing of vending machines

On a hot summers day

Their faces always say, "Welcome"

While their bodies door says, "Exit"

And "Break In Case Of Emergencies" 

Raves only open up at night

Neon sign eyes, black lights, glitter, and body painted smiles

They are the sleepless, the restless, the ones whose

Slurred speech pulls back the music and loud ring of voices

To reveal their truth

Little strobing stars wrapped around fragile bones

Still learning and yearning to make connection with themselves