I walked around until I found a park, a bench of stone
so slightly and perfectly concave...
above me the branches of jack pines curled into
another language, ending in little outbursts,
indifferent to the crescent moon, my line of sight.
I lowered my shades and closed my eyes,
listened for a while to the children's voices,
bikes on gravel, a bounce on the grass,
electronic turkey in the straw...
now nearer, then further away.
the moon's not wasting any time today.
he gave me the light for nothing, so I replaced it,
found myself a new pair of sunglasses
and turned out behind a plate that read EYES 1.
now things are darker but rosier,
and my wagon's pulling right.