The party unsure of itself
runs from me.
As dusk hangs before dark
In a heavy hammock swaying drunkenly.
Like the others.
A rabbit dashes by -chased by nothing
And a traffic cone lies tipped
over In the grass .
Looking up I see only one star
not even the north,But its enough.
I collect whats left of me
And go Back inside
Away from the bloody mosquitoes.
