If I had a kid I could

write about how great that is

but instead I just live

across from the half-size

basketball court with global

warming all around. Now it’s late and beautiful

night rain comes tenderly and last

night there were white &

orange stars hissing high                                                         

enough to hurt your teeth, stars which

by the way I could see in

spite of the street

lamp which the Civic Club says

I can buy a shade for as long

as it still shines light

on the flag. Personally I

wouldn’t want to be lit

all the time since half my life

consists of waving in the dark. Over at

my neighbor’s house I like

to walk over there in the dark

get dripped on by trees share

a beer & look at a poem in

The Oxford American that looks

gently back. There

we were in a lit

kitchen in a brick

house near a small walnut

forest next to a

limestone mine all

of which also got

dark. Like the paper on

my dead father’s shiny

tobacco tins I love the rain

at night it’s teal

and gold but mostly

silver and black. Walking

back to my house I

got dripped on by leaves I

registered the new real

estate sign in the dead

Irish guy’s yard I

thought I heard a snap

In my step I thought if I

had a shade I’d still

turn out the lights.

published in BlazeVOX17 Spring 2017