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
