It's when you see there are no guarantees
you head for the car for places you have
no keys for but your friends will let you in,
though you don't call your friends
though it's good they are there.
You follow the moon as long as the road holds out,
passing friends in the night the way headlights flash fences
to silver on a road of dark houses. It's somewhere
you have to go alone, it haunts you like a fog that
fades to touch. There are filaments of affinity--
fragile, but they hold: with dawn, the new sun sends
shadows through their constant web like lace.