it’s not exactly the sun

it’s a yellow light.
I mean walking down the sidewalk
it’s a yellow light

picking up the telephone
peeling an orange
it’s the yellow light.

shoot an arrow through it
it’s yellow.

fight with your woman
at night
it moves across the room
between you
half-arms fat,
glob body
wide legs
no eyes.

I saw it at my mother’s funeral
I saw it in the garden
I saw it sliding among the bottles at
the liquor store.
I don’t know what it is.
it sits inside of me now
and yet it looks at me
from the walls.

we can’t nail this one on the cross
we’ll live with it
like we live with dresser drawers

if it comes to see you
don’t phone me
I’ve gone

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