put me inside a light bulb tonight 

beside me
at the park, is nothing 
but folding cool wind
& the chirps of distant animals.
i watch
from a picnic table as
a girl scales a lamp post,
spoon in her mouth.
dusk is coming like a bowl
full of overripe tangerines.
citrus melts in lobes.
i don't tell the girl to get down
because that sort of advice
is often not wanted.
i observe as she reaches the top
of the lamp post
& smacks her spoon 
on the glowing light bulb 
releasing a small bright bird.
the bird darts away 
into the shimmering branches 
of an oak tree.
the trees sing a low hum
to welcome the shadows 
into their hair & the shadows
are good kind creatures
who go to the park to sleep. 
i don't know why i go to the park
& i ask the tree but
they're busy.
the shadows don't notice me 
as they come out to snatch 
the glass of the bulb,
breaking it into pieces
to share among themselves.
i don't know why i have 
to go to the park at night 
i contemplate eating
a bit of glass to see
if i belong in the wild branches
of the oak tree. stretch out
my hand & a shadow drops 
the glass sliver.
the glass cuts my tongue
& i spit out the shard.
the shadows scold me
for being wasteful.
i tell the shadows i want
to be one of them. 
the bright bird comes back
& i remember the girl had
been here too
& i pace the walkways 
until the sun is so deep 
in the sand box 
there's little to see
beyond each remaining lamp.
i wonder if breaking open
the light bulbs was something
she taught herself
or if perhaps she learned 
it from a shadow or maybe 
just happened to witness
one light bulb break. 
i spend a moment in 
each lamp's glow 
to tell the bird i'm thankful
for its work in the park.
i tell the birds that if 
i could i would crawl into the light bulb
& be bright &
contained while 
they did whatever they wanted
in the dark branches 
of the oak trees.