Odysseus at home

Opened the door at midnight, it was summer.
Walked out naked onto the deck,
the wood beneath my feet almost soft.

Stood in the orange-glow of the street light, 
silent houses across the road facing, 
the blue-black sky curtaining down
behind their peaked roofs.  

Cars and trucks on State Highway One:
a constant echoing roar, interrupted 
by the bark of a dog on Clark Street 
which sets off other dogs, noise-spots 
that map the town around me. 

The air is warm, nothing bothers. 
I stand there, scanning the stars,
which have no names, not here, not now.  

At just the right time, when consciousness
of a moment has registered and passed,
you call out: 
aaaaaaaa  aa a“What are you doing?”

Published in Blackmail Press, March 2013.