Lesson To A Groundskeeper

the gently geometry 

of the tennis court

goes undisturbed 

it is swept now, 

and you have been released

into the thick night

with the silent machinery

and the moist moon

as boots meet feet, 

sitting on the curb,

looking up, you may

recognize the stars

as but a blurred vision

of a fencing practice, 

men in thousands

thrusting and parrying

retreating and jousting 

a practice tournament of

nimble luminous mummies

hurling antennas - 

however, if you cannot bring yourself

to this vision, perhaps

you'd be better returning to

the assembly line for a few

more pathologies 

yet, for now, walk. 

walk upon the concrete 

compressing a stray tennis ball

walk to any trailer park witch doctor

and give yourself that medicine

and walk back home upon that 

now forgiving, soft cement 

and go to bed 

until tomorrow 

go to bed, 

fold yourself in those unwashed,

childhood sheets

beneath that useless, useless

event taking place in the elevated galaxy

and everywhere below it