Moon on a Lamppost (Florida. Spring 2002.)

We

bathed

in amber

last night

getting stuck

with mosquitoes

under an orange sheen

which made things

not illuminated, but

notdark.

So, surrounded

by a personal 11 pm we sat

under a lampshade of  notdark

and tried to get our feelings

out.

Even sitting back to back,

empty bookends, we held orange

light between us

a sinister glow.

I could see that nothing hid beneath its gleam,

no beady-eyed monsters lurked

in the harvest colored bushes,

but I could also see only shapes,

as if my eyes were taking silent hours

to adjust to the light on Crescent Road.

That tiny orange                              kept me from being

moon on a lamppost                     scared and kept me from seeing

you.