it is quiet now
still
most of the urban world asleep
beneath the purple sky
guarded by a lazy half-moon
leaning back
grinning up the magic gardens of light
but there are noises:
the long constant howl
the sweet throbbing chant
of crickets
nocturnal birds chirping
like laughing blue eyes
sprinklers jabbing water
spiraling, doing
their rounds on
the grass
I see them now
standing in the dark field
like ghosts
I think of the spirits of childhood
as tetherball poles stand
silent without balls
awaiting their long lost
boys and girls
decapitated of purpose
black palm trees outlined in the dark
I stare down from my perch
at the tanbark below
basking in orange light
the imprints of so many feet
coming and going are buried there
in shadow puddles
I look up
and the gingerbread hills
I know from the day are lost to the smog…
and then suddenly it’s the human voice
tearing into the air
with a drunken “WHOO-HOO ALLRIGHT YEAH!”
along with farting engine and squealing tires
passing through a street nearby
and then there’s
the long constant howl
it follows me home
all the way
to the front door
where I shut it
closed.