Mom Thinks You’re

Where is this room I know
the stars shine now about me –
we have no place to
go – so let’s find Albert Mooney – the stairs
don’t reach the top
we are light as seeds –
take the ferry over
away from the boulder
tonight, tonight, tonight
we’ll find the owl’s den – hoot
and holler because I pay by the hour – ours
are never finished, and dawn
makes you skittish.
Berries are parties in summer fields – that picnic
sure was a dream.

Ken Rumble