Claim

I'd like to think of all of you, as little points of light

that if I see the sky glowing blue

and the sky-scrapers wreathed in haze

if I hear the chimes echo in the dark

that someone else watches

the light play across someone else's cheekbones

in a dim garage

where they're making music

and another smells the fresh scent of cilantro

rising out of the thin plastic bag

mixed with the sharp dampness of the night air

as they are walking home from the grocery store

I'd like to think that at least one

is thrust into delighted awareness

of the exhilaration and charging vulnerability

of the suicide pact we make each day on the 10

and grins with fierce gratitude

as they go jetting over the pot-holes

that someone stood on the sidewalk, at dusk

and lit a cigarette, and dreamed for awhile

until someone called them back inside

that we hold each other

as the night holds us

against the harsh light of day.

"We belong, we belong, we belong..."

--I stake my claim.