November 13, 2010

Some nights
I have company
but usually I walk alone
past the bars and up the hill
to where a thick-walled church
reminds the city below
that God is a solitary word
painted yellow.

Past the church
whose wide-open door
I once entered when God
was on vacation
is a long driveway
that curves downward
through the jungle.

At the road’s end
one of five bedrooms
awaits me in the dark,
along with a reading lamp
unplugged at the foot
of a frameless mattress—
but that’s beside the point.

My day’s best thoughts
coincide with the barks
that mark my entrance
into the forested silence.

Unraveling night secrets
I’m one and everything
and barely notice
the neighbor’s Chihuahua
lunging at my heels.

LOCATION: Florian├│polis, Brazil – My nightly walk home.

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