Our human stars
that light the night
below the absent sky
give up their secrets easily,
some love they wish you'd buy
displayed behind
the lamps of chrome
that flood the darkness gray
so you can find your way around
the frameworks of the day.
The Pleiades
are liquor stores
to help you stagger home,
Orion leaves its office on
so you can eye its tomes,
and street lamps
are the zodiac
connecting Gods and men
and bedroom lamps the planets glow
as days begin and end.
We bring our essence
closer in
and dance in spacious rooms,
the universes we once rhymed
can safely now resume.
