The hard dark rubber night
Is relentless
And my bikes reflectors
Like the gibbous moon
mean nothing
Orange spirals
For heat and coffee
And today my alarm clock
Is a fat naked black man
Dead center in the street
Howling a version of joy
That I can't condemn
And we ransom the stars
For baked bean suppers
They decorate the mud
And simple clouds
Are their baffle
So I carved infinity
In the side of a potato
Then rolled the root
In black ink on gift paper
And the one thing
We can count on
Is that it will
get dark again.
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