I am twirling under the soft dome
Of a street lamp
Spinning in and out of shadows
At the border of
Can’t quite
Moonless night
Where have you gone,
Second sight?

I am alone now, and happier for it.
When they tell you that you will be happier later,
Do they ever consider that
Trees spin
Chipped chin
Table-spin
On broken limb.

The ground is cooler than
my refrigerator,
and more genuine.