Some faded curtain sways in a phantom breeze
and air swells in the old duct behind the bed
Cowboy Junkies play
Salted meat stench, tobacco and zest linger
The misted road on the outside
refracts moonlight through a crack
it's all too disjointed
but also clear, all so clear
The cliched call from anonymous houses, screaming; drunken screaming
I t ' s F r i d a y n i g h t
You're invited
The notion enters in eerie silences
and wood-frames creak
and the curtains still dance
and green leaves look black in that middle point between the lamp posts
and a stray car buzzes along a sultry surface; it is the moth, brazen in search of light
and who are we, if not moths in search of light?
Can you hear that ocean swell
or do you roar in unison too
Would you change as the weather
and embrace everything
everybody
and life
to reach transcendence