Cricket in the Parking Garage
I guess the cricket too
got lost in the concrete jungle,
so I ferried him home in my palm,
that one of us might drink
green air and sleep in the grass,
before the end of things.
You said,
"it'll probably die anyway,"
and I knew then that we would,
regardless of his fate.
How could I ever have loved anyone
who left earthworms on the sidewalk?
Blind in the neon cave,
we stumbled drunk, like children,
and wondered, whose sharp eye
is watching for our missed steps,
whose hand will lay us down to rest,
in what golden pastures?
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