Night Sky

The night sky...is perfect for sparks and churning and breezes, when
The moon is out, the stars are barely visible, the bright lights
Of the city outshine them, the glows that glimmer so
Artificially and strong, so clear and loud, paving
The way for some lonely stranger
Driving at night, carrying a low
Heavy sorrow hidden
Somewhere beneath
The surface of the sky,
He heads toward a dead end,
Flooded with lukewarm water upon
The doorsteps of his home, a rented two-flat
That bears his name on the mailbox, the
Name-tag peeling, underneath
The sticker, spells out the
Engraved words:
Owner.
The night sky...perfect for conversations and explanations and
Anticipation, the moon comes out and fulfills its course,
It shines its glory upon the rippling waters, of no
Temperature, so smooth and calm on this
Night, this summer night, rocking back
And forth upon the shore, the pier
Of concrete, caressing each
Surface, and leaving
Its mark yet
Receding,
Retreating,
To return again
Without warning the
Gravity of the place pulling
It back, beckoning the tide standing
In slow-motion, steadily advancing, upon the
Doorsteps, craning his neck to look down, below,
Without consequence, the water invading
His shoes, closing his eyes, he waits,
For the suffocation,
To feel,
Alive.