night and night

1/3/05

all I ask for on a night like this
where the air feels like polyester
and my ears are dipped in pudding
is that you sit with me awhile
and enjoy the artificial light, my one
spot of tender almond luminescence
fixed high on the ceiling, below
a more natural black above

somehow that black fits better
in this easy pajama time
but out there it’s icy, a surgical cold
that slices through eyelids with scapular precision
and flash-freezes nostrils during the lightest breath
but they tell me it’s really a comedy
that the stars peek down at,
laughing warmly at our
silly
human
shortcomings
and giggling at our frantic struggle
for a bit of summertime warmth
and springtime rain –
aren’t we a bit silly ourselves
just hanging around, sticking it out
like stubborn homesteaders
in a land of gray grit and shattered civilization?

but whether the suns and moons above
laugh, cry, or just fall silent
it’s tonight’s skin-on-steel contrast that
nips at our heels as we wander off to bed,
making sure to whisper one last time
reassuringly
that we’ll be gently rocked to sleep
under toasty graham cracker bedsheets
foggy bedroom windows
and that black star-sewer of hell above