CAMPFIRE

~*~
the campfire is a little god
we feed with offerings of wood hard-won from searching
and the god has been summoned to warm us and then inevitably starve
I think briefly of a thousand little fire gods
~*~
the circle is silent, heavy
we are far from home, weary of the road and of each other
and the strange old ocean-night holds no mystery tonight, only chaos
I am lonely for the sound of our favorite songs on a guitar
~*~
the most we hold is all we are
we fear and yearn for what was left behind,
and accept what is here with grudging jokes, comradely griping
I hold my breath from airs of nights gone awry
~*~
the dream revisited is strange to me
we move in twilight trances through towns I half-remember
and, realizing at times the abyss that can appear between us
I glance upward at times, to the solitary paths above
~*~
the we and I is a crossroads-idea
we have moved through many a crossroad, without comment or pause,
and are bound in one car like four words in a brief tight sentence
I roll my pen between my fingers and wonder what will come