A moonless walk makes a monotonous world;
A rest for the eyes.
Electric lamps a half mile away,
Stolen from the gods;
We swarm and huddle around them,
Cooking and eating our own livers.
Consumed by the cold, comforting night.
Around the slippery corner, and
The lights from the motels
Hit me, and the wind.
Is anyone sleeping,
Surrounded by these unnatural stars?
My presence incends another one,
The brightest;
Sorry.
Back into the woods,
30%; come on thighs.
Along the road.
19%; come on phone,
Back into the stale light.
Freezing fingers are worth the time,
In a hidden cavern of peace.