Last night I hung

my sleep out a sill

till dawn

I eloped

the primordial


of my Buick

And walked by

the light of gravel

and the grin

of the Moon.

Three planets led

(Mars was in

its closest of all

recorded time.)

The clearest

I lost

7 hours of my life

of leisure

I walk with difficulty

As I pass your house

or his and hers

The dogs would howl

one’s wet maw, my wrist

I feared...

Otherwise alone, and

lean deer legs cracking

twigs somewhere unseen.

The forest was impenetrable

I could not think

my way through it

even to enter an inch.

I stayed firmly

Planted on gravel heels

sometimes running, always

Walking faster

and water was

my greatest desire.

I’ve never wanted

woman more.

Once though, I heard

voices, saw people, a fire

a circle, all standing

Happy ritual,

I passed unnoticed.

There is something spiritual

in a campfire circle

some magic that must

Not be tapped

if you can’t equally replenish it.

And when bodies of

drunken men are

elongated by fire

The look ominous

unfriendly, and you think

Over the next hill I

could be home, though

you know you are more

Lost than you were

when you set off from

The wreck of your

totaled park avenue

with electric everything

which nobody would

ever drive again after you

hung it up last night.