I bought an ugly coat and wore it once with collar up. I walked the town with rain-resistant gloss reflecting porch lights, street lights, headlights, the light of a full moon. I searched the store front shadows, watched a stop sign on the job, jumped in dumpsters wondering where reason sleeps. Apparently, it has no nighttime hideout. It fades away at sunset, flees from strange, nocturnal superstition, waits for safety of daybreak.