at least you are safe
now there there
not on the slanted streets
with monster trucks
glaring lights thru
your whole window machine
hearing drums reverberated thru the night
someone running around
a house
the moon come down
instead of up
a star in the sky to
a low harvest moon
reading Joy Harjo’s
poems of singing to deer then
sitting on curbside
drinking hot chocolate
so much cooler
than the bar scene
a pine needle street colored
fox dashing in
front of my car
to prove it
wild red eyes giving
it away
these are your omens
this is your good witch
must believe in
the omens
must take care