Here come my night thoughts
On crutches
Returning from studying the heavens
What they thought about
Stayed the same
Stayed immense and incomprehensible
My mother and father smile at each other
Knowingly above the mantel
The cat sleeps on, the dog
Growls in his sleep
The stove is cold and so is the bed
Now there are only these crutches
To contend with
Go ahead and laugh, while I raise one
With difficulty
Swaying on the front porch
While pointing at something
In the gray distance
You see nothing, eh?
Neither do I, Mr. Milkman
I better hit you once or twice over the head
With this fine old prop
So you don't go off muttering
I saw something!