Sometimes

Sometimes
at 1am
when you lie in a bed
somewhere
the cars on the highway
sound like
frogs
desperately trying
to mate
sending their desolate
hysterical messages
out
into the cold
into the blue flame of the
night.

The rich are right:
good help is hard to find -

in life
and in sleep
when you curl up in bed
like a hand
cupped
to receive
a few cents
the spittle of gods
or the small handshake
of a long lost
opportunity.

You can see the
spots where
the trees are
missing
while storey high
scaffolds
are swung down from construction sites
by cranes
and the world is
clogged
by fat agitative women
hissing
"Only the Lord!"
at unsuspecting
passersby on
campuses.
"Only the Lord!"
they hiss
waving
greasy books about Christ.

I thought
that was rather
"Only the lonely" ?