a mile a way knocks like a welcome intruder
on these unbolted doors and surly sea lions
bark like mystics who deep down
want to be quarterbacks,
their urgent love songs making
even the ancient fog blush,
rock garbage pails below and dive
headlong into salmon skins and bone-dry
ice cream pints, ripping through
defenseless scraps because their world
is my world and my world is their world,
no matter what I think or
what I want for that matter,
Long after midnight, when the city's small
like me and modest like my needs, when
the earth is round and dark like
the cat that sleeps at my feet,
when everything and everyone seem
close and near and wise and dear,
and open and weird and not to be feared,
what John Boehner looks like and
what Michelle Bachmann sounds like and
I no longer question Rush Limbaugh's
longevity and my government's solvency
and the church's proper theology
and Miley Cyrus' popularity,Long after midnight,
but sometime before the first bird sings,
I awaken to the pounding surf
and the sea lions like Sufi saints;
and whatever was shut down in my soul
is alive again,
the gridlock in my heart is locked no more.
The dark night sings sweet love songs
and I listen as if morning itself depends
on my hearing them.
DGJ 10/18/13
