not groping but slinking
slinking back to bed after a pee,
(the curtains are already open)
i stand in the window looking out;
there are cars and i'm staring at
them and imagining them staring
back, winking as they dash past
railings, ('o how the rapid clouds') maybe loosely
blowing me a kiss. where i live has traffic,
even at 4.27 am: when it is getting later and earlier
simultaneously but i'm not usually awake at this hour;
i'm here and i'm preposterous
because i notice (now THERE'S something laughable)
that the hardness and the brightness have
returned, undiminished. my glances are twitched back and
i can't make sense of the responses; i turn around
( the moon's cleanliness).
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