364. the kissing gate
set the clock
for oh-two hundred
wake, dress, drive for 30 minutes
on empty roads
the blink blink of the car alarm
loud
in the blackness:
through the woods
around the lake
ten miles
nearly shit myself
with the things I saw
or thought I saw
– the things I heard
thought I heard
and I’m a grown man
it’s not often I’m scared shitless
these days–
the woods an ancient place with no streetlights,
the water lapping black with no moon, no torch
I can only make out the sandy path
around the lake
if I look straight ahead
– look down & the path disappears
water either side,
then click clack through the kissing gate
– the car’s still here
blink blink
a cigarette
and home to bed,
jeez, I feel alive