A streetlamp, spilling artificial brightness, illuminating my
exhaled cancer
Humming quietly, flickering off, on, distracting the moths
lazy tumble
Since April I’ve stared at this same scene, this field of
grit &  asphalt
Brimming with the glossy colored shells of vehicles, now silent
& dull with grime
Sickly yellow light cascading over them, automated, dead,
light
I remember the ocean, so very different to be out in it then
standing on the shore
Watching the swells through a maze of gray pipes, a window
into blue nothing
With a rifle in my hand, the very same I’ve held for many months
now
Sitting under the shade of boulders & netting, watching the
shadows rearrange themselves
Clothing stiff & stinking from my sweat, the dirt worked into my
skin
Wrapped in a poncho liner, boots left on, praying to stop thinking,
merciful sleep
Most nights I can find it with ease, but others, like tonight, it evades
me
At the edge of unconsciousness I am suddenly confronted by some voice
behind my eyes
Teasing me with memories I’m not sure are memories anymore, so much
as scenes from another’s life
Something long gone, like a smoking **** flicked away, or that first breath
on a September morning
Staring into a blue sky, Cardinals singing in the branches