Minneapolis. 76 degrees. Full moon.
The moon was sweating too
I mean, sweating like a woman -
Uncle John says we 'glow'.
We glowed together.
When I got to the park, I walked.
I did situps. I prayed lackluster prayers
which nevertheless, I meant. I want to
glow like Moses, and I don't think that
was just sweat.
Bats were abundant
wheeling and turning on pins of sound
flying by faith and not by sight. There's
a man in Aberdeen who is blind, but
goes about with a video camera. He
makes movies. I don't understand.
I suppose I do understand wanting to
operate in a sense I don't possess.
Common sense, perhaps?
Enough of this poem. I just wanted
to make it possible somehow for all of you
to smell the flower-thick air with me
to hear the million crickets
and to see how the street lamp light
led me home.
* photo from www.sodahead.com
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