It begins like any other poem of love:
A low, fat moon and
errant stars
poke yellow-white holes in
the cloth of the sky.
But in the east
and in the west,
a creamy orange haze rises up along the horizon: from the
desperate churning of the big city,
and from the
world-weary sun.
Crickets and cicadas tirelessly tick and stroke their songs
amore, amore
into the waiting
night.
And Dairy Queen hangs in the warm air:
dry,
a harbinger of the coming autumn.

Tick,
tick,
tick.
And the cars roll by.

Hands should be held together while walking
tonight.
Flesh on flesh - with loving strokes - should ease the world's worries
tonight.
Dark hair - lips parting, eyes closing - should spill on the pillow
tonight.
And I should empty myself into you
tonight.

Little promises about wanting,
and needing -
desperate whispers exchanged in the confidence of a now vacant space, they were like paintings that
no one saw,
and words that
no one read:
all passing into
night.

all material copyright paul e. germanos
contact: paulgermanos(at)msn.com
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