tonight the moon is pale,
and you, street light,
I am staring at you through this dirty window.
you have seen good times
and bad times,
accidents
and arguments,
stray cats
and new moons.
but tonight you are the moon,
pale, drowning me, penetrating my window
and destroying any rest I could of had
with this first night of moving in.
but perhaps I am just elaborating when I should be sleeping,
as it is hard to sleep so far away from home.
tonight what I see out there is a poor substitution
for everything:
no quiet
or sleep:
only a street light that is loud like an angry woman,
shining on what I will call home from now on.
