Last Laugh

later you said we laughed over how funny it was that I stormed out and there were
      no taxis

and then there was nothing to say except mean things about the doorman

who later laughed about our smiling and awkward stuttering

one cab finally came and neither of us could bear to take it, be the first to leave

nor find funny how sad it is to be the last one standing there

the jerk with the mouth that gets to go home alone

so I just walked, took the scenic route

past the collapsing barn, all of the shoes on the telephone wire

and how many lights on in kitchens, someone unable to

sleep next to the person asleep in their bed

and the moths in August on the streetlamps

bumping faithfully into the light

the crickets with the crunch of shoes

against fresh gravel, the new tar cooking

so I thought if I wasn't alone I wouldn't have noticed the moon

but after two miles back to the house, the dog in the pen

was asleep and crowding the tree stump with her body