it’s 5.00 pm
still no luck
out in the cold
the apartment dreary
teenage boys cutting in front of me
to do their laundry
and smoke hash
on the dryer
i have a supermarket list
but no money
my stomach is growling
but i can’t think about food
baby, it’s cold
but i can see a moth
a little orb of yellow light
floating in the air
from one lamp post
to another
i observe it
from the park bench
the cold wood
freezing my prancing ass
i remember how much you like
moths
how highly you speak of them
because they are attracted by the light
just like you
you say you would like to be reborn
as one
now that i watch it
now that i pay close attention
to this moth
i think
they are not bad
after all
little flashing creatures of the night
little candles floating until first light
candles
like the candle set you always have
on your dining table
vanilla-scented
that’s another thing
you really like
candles—bringing together
sight and smell
reconciling the senses
i admire your senses
your sensuality
your erotic naked raw vulnerability
dripping emotion
dripping on the wet shower floor
all the way to the bedroom…
i think that
all in all
i would like to be
a moth
tonight;
that wouldn’t be
such
a terrible
thing.
