in the night jack anders In the night, The interiors of the convenience stores Are crystalline, lit-up glass cubes With the clerk slowly moving behind the counter, The neat rows Of candies and plastic soft drink liters, Each lit up individually As if being inspected by heaven, The sky is so clear, I can see the stars Revolving in their pinpricks As I turn at the green light. I think of a fly in amber, Still flying through its prehistoric mist; Of pennies glowing at the bottom Of a cerulean blue fountain pool; Loving faces suspended inside of light. If I do not talk to you, it’s because Of the painfulness, trying to find An appropriate grace, For unlike fountains, We have to think as we move, But there is no guilt as a fountain releases itself, Naked and shredded, blown-open, exposed -- Silvery misty cool spray, The hard muscle of its arch Turning away.