The silence must be unsatisfied here.
The air conditioning has broken for the night
so my family's all gone in to sleep
and sweat out their dreams.

These nights, the birds never stop their song,
in with the crickets who scrape on
and on
and on.
The harvest moon is out, and they must think it is the sun,
bulbous and orange,
like one wide eye of a tilted face,
looking hard at all these curious animals.

Now I know I have just a girl for a mate
and I'm only a man of a king
but what a god,
what a god
what a God! we must have.

What a god I sit with now,
sounding the humble noises of the night,
both of us wondering what it must be like to grow old.