WHERE THE LIGHT

Where the light
goes off

however superfluous
the time or whitewashed day

found you by the river
separated from the source

of each other's eye
you still are able

to write a four letter word
on graffiti's city's blackboard

in a dialect of love
that few bother to look up

and live under the trees
of midnight lanterns

under the somnambulist streets
of a wounded ex Nam veteran

who was unwittingly drafted
and grafted into

the peaceable kingdom
having disappeared

into the newspaper
only after eighteen years

of devotion to art's
dexterousness

in the land
of opportunity

by acting out
Munch's "The Scream"

in a locked in unit
of demoralization

after the naughty bullies
starved you

into submission
as a model prisoner

yet you blossomed
as an actor,

a demur fashion poser
always draped in white suits

who loved a complimentary
ride on the merry go round

far from the edge of town
with survival skills

of a boy scout handbook
devouring your mother's prayers

or reading Rimbaud
barefoot in the beach.