No Porch Lights

Houses with no porch lights. No place to be tonight. Piano keys compress all around me. The yellow magic of the day has come and gone. The palms pressed together. Dusty books stacked in circles. The unleavened bread of the city streets. Men ask me for money. I ask them for more. People climb into bed. My head unfolds like a flower. Words spill out like semen. Calendars count out children. They kept coming back here after I’d passed. You’re a yellow bird. And you’re hovering over me now. Candlelight vigils for my lost innocence. Smoke seeps out the stars and clouds my vision. Police investigators pass my by on their way to tracking killers. Cold staircases turned to stone. You’re hinged around my heart, banging in the breeze.