After This Sky

You cannot sow seeds
in a parched sky
and hope they will germinate.

Just as you cannot
drive along cloudy streets
and hope they will tell you
which way to go.

You have seen naked trees
but you want to believe
you need not cry.

Instead you dream
and your dreams
hold up mirrors of sand
for you.

So what do you do
but make love
under a street lamp
while a lunatic moon
on the loose
peeks in through
the frosted panes
of your car window?

And cry
for bleary streets
for denuded trees
for unwilling dreams

for a jack-in-the-box love
that jumps to life
or fades away
while you join
a voyeuristic street lamp
in watching yourself make love?

For no doubt you know
there’s nowhere to go
after this sky.