4 A.M. By Kenneth Fearing

<p>Production and Sound Design by Kevin Seaman</p><p> </p><p>4 A.M.</p><p>by Kenneth Fearing</p><p>It is early evening, still, in Honolulu, and in London, now, it</p><p>must be well past dawn;</p><p>But here, in the Riviera Cafe, on a street that has been lost and</p><p>forgotten very long ago, as the clock moves steadily toward</p><p>closing time,</p><p>The spark of life is very low, if it burns at all.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>And here we are, four lost and forgotten customers in this place</p><p>that surely will never again be found,</p><p>Sitting, at ten-foot intervals, along this lost and forgotten bar,</p><p>(Wishing the space were further still, for we are still too close</p><p>for comfort)</p><p>Knowing that the bartender, and the elk’s head, and the portrait</p><p>of F.D.R.,</p><p>(All gazing at something of interest beyond us and behind us,</p><p>but very far away)</p><p>Must somehow be aware of us, too, as we stare at the cold</p><p>interior of our lives, reflected in the mirror beneath and in</p><p>back of them.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Hear how lonely the radio is, as its voice talks on, and on, un-</p><p>answered;</p><p>Notice how futile is the nickel dropped in the juke-box by a</p><p>customer,</p><p>How its music proves again that one’s life is either too humdrum</p><p>or too exciting, too empty or too full, too this, too that;</p><p>Only the cat that has been sleeping in the window, now yawning</p><p>and stretching and trotting to the kitchen to sleep again --</p><p>Only this living toy knows what we feel, knows what we are,</p><p>really knows what we only think we know.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Soon, too soon, it will be closing time, and the door will be locked;</p><p>Each of us will be alone, soon, with something ravaging for</p><p>a name --</p><p>(Our golden, glorious futures, perhaps).</p><p>Lock the door now and put out the lights, before some terrible</p><p>stranger enters and gives, to each of us, an answer that is</p><p>the final truth.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>They say the Matterhorn at dawn, and t