dark

it’s dark on the hill

even though city lights peel away secrets

below where I stand lonely

listening to urban din hammered into songs

remembering to look up

scanning for planes diving across memories

picking out constellations as cop cars provide the horns

I remember that insectalien rising out of the floor

planetarium lights dimming

a sonorous sky guide

and highbacked reclining chairs

modern as open the pod bay doors, Hal

open the pod bay doors

remembering to look down

looking for secrets in polished glass

burnished metal and an artillery of light bulbs

now its dark

now there is no up

now the past is the hunter

on the hill in the dark

remembering the loneliness

there is between each of us

 

 

David Trudel           © 2015

 

 

 

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