travel guide for midnight streets

here is where i watched the moon
stretch her legs & where 
the street lamp went dark above my head
& made my feel loud & alive.
my whole body becomes a piece
of cutlery, a wandering fork.
i think of this street as a series
of dining room tables. reaching out,
i try to feel for a table clothe.
everything is tulle.
dresses come back to life & stand
in the hollow of each alley.
i put up a hand to let them know
i am not interested in wearing tonight. 
each gust of wind flickers me.
everyone is a candle light. some houses
want to burn & other truly do.
a car is a carridge is a pile 
of horses. the birds sleep 
in mid air, hovering. trees full
of climbing. i try 
to keep myself inside at night.
it is best for me to head in early 
& dwindle in my own corner of things.
outside my sadness gets wide.
grows legs & wants to be walked.
i walk my sadness as far as the world goes 
but it is never enough especially not
on a clear night like this 
where the moon is comfortable
& the stars are also candles are also
a sea of eyes. blinking becomes impossible.
a whole lot of staring. i stare so hard
the images all turn photograph.
i have albums of my midnights.
a bat is traveling without beating 
its wings. moves like a love letter
between buildings. the road becomes 
a creek. i take my shoes off & set them afloat 
like little funeral rafts. i watch them 
rush away towards the ocean.
in the ocean it is always midnight
& in the ocean it is always a street.
i write too much about cool colors 
but trust me it is so blue outside
you might mistake a daffodil 
for a telephone. how does anyone
get home so late. another body 
strides with purpose towards 
his own quiet. i take that as a sign
i should go too. my legs carry me,
a heavy arch of bones, 
away from the spiraling street.
i lay awake all night lusting after 
the shadow drenched sidewalk.