They gather in front of the house just before midnight on the first Wednesday of every month, their hair bed-tousled and their eyes still sandy with sleep. They greet one another with a kiss on the cheek, too tired for much talking. They stand on the dark lawn, shivering in their night dresses and cotton pajamas, waiting for their host to let them in.

As soon as the clock strikes twelve, the door of the house springs open and they're beckoned inside. Steaming mugs of coffee and tea are passed around and the warmth and light and caffeine energizes them immediately. They are led down a hall, into a dining room, and seated at a long table laden with food.

There are vats of orange and grapefruit juice, triangles of toast slathered in butter. Pots of honey and jam sit alongside horns of plenty filled with pastries. There are towers of pancakes and French toast, the layers wedged with fresh cream and berries. There are milky bowls of porridge with all of the mix-ins: honey, nuts, dried fruit, sugar, and cinnamon.

At the far end of the table is a bagel station with a variety of cream cheeses, plates of bacon ranging in degree of crispiness, eggs boiled, scrambled, sunny-side up, and over easy. There are blistered-skin sausages, cheesy grits, baked beans, and fried tomatoes.

Napkins and utensils are distributed and, with a single nod from the host, the 23rd meeting of the Midnight Breakfast Society begins.

My prince is coming,

I feel it in the air.

The clock strikes midnight,

Not a minute to spare.

The way I feel,

I wouldn't dare

Miss a kiss

This sordid affair.

The horns went off,

They know we are here,

A toast to you,

My sweet dear.

Safely, we will disappear.

As the clock strikes midnight

the world is fast asleep

I'm staring at the ceiling

I fear I'm in too deep

Lately your horns are showing

You've locked me in a kiss

I look over my shoulder now

when I used to feel such bliss

I wonder now what happened to the girl that I once knew

The mask has fallen off your face now what am I to do

Now you terrify me when I thought you were the most

I can't help but think now that the world I knew is toast

The change in your complexion

Has took me by surprise

I never saw the difference

when I looked into your eyes

But now I've taken notice

and I don't know what to do

cause you'll go bat-**** crazy

if I tell you that were through

I wonder now what happened to the girl that I once knew

The mask has fallen off your face now what am I to do

Now you terrify me when I thought you were the most

I can't help but think now that the world I knew is toast

so this is where you've been.

so this is where midnight delivered you

after you broke that stupid clock, again.

should i be surprised to find you

lying on the floor, toasting the dog bowl

with your bubbling cider slucing

across the floor like someone painted

a path of disappointment for it to follow.

so this is cold indifference.

so this is why your father made that

ball and chain joke after our wedding vows.

after you laughed and decided our love

was akin to inprisonment, somehow.

at what point am i allowed to be angry,

i wonder.

at what point is my kiss not enough

to keep you where i can see you.

to keep those horns off your head when you

take too deep of a swallow.

the devil's drink burns your tongue and i

actually can't do this anymore.

i guess i'll just turn around

and leave you lying on the floor.

i guess that's all there is of us, now.

There was that time I locked horns with my cousin Sheila at the annual family reunion. It was midnight as I recall, and I could not sleep so I snuck out of my cabin and into the camp kitchen. I was just finishing making some toast in the oldest and largest toaster I had ever seen, when Sheila’s boyfriend came in. I was startled and a little embarrassed, standing there in my far too revealing gown. I felt my face flush, and tried no to stare when I realized he was wearing even less than me. He was breathtakingly gorgeous and I had already imagined what it would be like to have him kiss me. OK, so maybe I had imagined a bit more than that. My heart skipped a beat when he came to stand next to me at the toaster and I moved aside to let him make his toast. Instead he leaned in and kissed me! The intensity and suddenness of it buckled my knees. He held me up and kissed me again, this time longer and much....Oh will you look at the clock! I am so late for my dentist appointment! Bye! See you later.

Brunt toast

no milk in the fridge

the clock blinking red

though it is not midnight.

When will you learn

you cannot live without me?

Now I see

I've stunted your growth

handling things you just take for granted

along with me.

Kiss me softly on my forehead

so the horns I've grown

repressed resentment sprouting out

won't poke your eye out.

horns blow

like a clock

chiming at midnight

the battlefield is gray

on this colorless day

a war has begun

but it won't be won

for some battles have no victor

only death's cruel kill.

the swords clash

like a holiday toast

and the guns they blaze

like a fire's hissing roast.

the rain it falls

like a glorious hail

it pelts armies like reminders

that this fight

is to no avail.

The bugles call

horns of old

Riders up

The horses trot

from the paddock

The clock is set

anticipation

sizzles

the chutes are loaded

Tension mounts as

we wait the call

And they're off!!

Pounding hooves

Jockeys whip

Muscles bunching

Manes flying

they make the turn

our horse is leading

Crowds screaming

thoroughbreds jostle

hides gleaming in the

afternoon sun

And the winner?

photo finish

too close to call

We wait.

Three were there

neck and neck

we make our way

To the winner's circle

Three owners

Friends and enemies

in the war of the race

Champagne awaits

the champion's toast

And then the

leader prances in.

Red roses drape a

midnight black stallion

bitter smiles hide our

disappointment.

The kiss of lady luck

went sideways today

our ghost grey filly

will win another day

The kiss of love feels reassuring, untill you feel the horns of betrayal.

The horns will make you feel as if your burning, when you are fine.

You will feel as if your toast, without the heat.

When the clock strikes midnight, you are awake.

Worrying if everything is ok, or if everything is wrong.

Far off I heard voices in conversation. It seemed to be quite melodic, and I realized that it was no conversation at all, but a song. A very loud song with only one note. I rustled in my sheets and practically jumped as I saw my bedroom wall illuminated in a dance of blue and red, and realized that the one-noted song was the horns of a panicking car. Bleary eyed, I attempted to view the commotion, but another hand grabbed mine and the other settled over my mouth. The grip was cool and firm as I tried to resist, but I wasn't going down this easily. I thrashed, desperate to escape, my elbow colliding with the metal bed frame. Yelping in pain, I sat up with a start, met by only blackness. Gone were the sirens and strange hands. Something tickled my arm. The sensation was smooth and soft like a kiss or a stroke of affection, but it was too continuous and too...wet. Too late I realized that the nightmare was fake, but the gash on my elbow wasn't. The sheets were soaked with blood, and my senses were slapped by the rusty tang. Everything was blood, inky black in night's darkness, and I was drowning in it. I shrieked into my moonlit bedroom as I threw myself into consciousness at last. Confused and quite unsettled, I looked to my clock to see that midnight had long since passed. And then I got up and made some toast.