Wee small haiku, redux

These came to me around 5 a.m., a day I woke up before everyone else and just imagined some scenes from the previous few hours.

From Feb. 27, 2011

The wee small hours / Street sweeper washes away / What yesterday left
The wee small hours / Streetlamps dim as if to ask / Why are we still on?
The wee small hours / When rodents and roaches do / Some of their best work
The wee small hours / Cigarette turns to ashes / Dying like the night
The wee small hours / Bourbon melts ice cubes the way / She melted his heart
The wee small hours / Action’s harder to find than / A ghetto cabbie
The wee small hours / Train whistle marks 1 a.m. / All is on schedule
The wee small hours / Siren says it’s 2 a.m. / And all is not well
The wee small hours / An ER doc wearily / Stitches up some kid
The wee small hours / Scratchy Sinatra platter / Still spins its magic
The wee small hours / Couples drunk on love and wine / Can’t tell which is which
The wee small hours / Her fingers linger on him / Take their own sweet time
The wee small hours / Cramming guy’s midnight oil / Is three hours gone
The wee small hours / Exhausted student looks up / What “nocturnal” means
The wee small hours / Scribbler sketches the darkness / With some wee small words
The wee small hours / Agnostic insomniac / Can’t believe in sleep
The wee small hours / The owner then the dough rise / At the doughnut shop
The wee small hours / Life is primitive B.C. / That’s Before Coffee
The wee small hours / Jazzercizers rise early / Slap on the Spandex
The wee small hours / Do their disappearing act / With coffee, the dawn

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