face the strange

the strange tells the truth

that we’re still young enough to go out dancing late at night

with cicadas and crickets

howling and laughing like coyotes do

the only difference is that when we dance now,

we feel our feet more than we used to

we feel the miles they walked in wrong directions,

in shoes belonging to someone else

or in no shoes at all

but in those trenches with blisters, we learned

that love is just a dog from hell

and when we had to put him down

we swore never again

until,

again