Streetlamps

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There’s three little lights that aren’t blinking outside
And I’m not sure if they’re stars or streetlamps
And that’s a lie – a petty poetic lie
The stars are nuclear fusion, the closest of which may have died
Four years ago and we still would not know
Four years ago when I was in high school
Regardless the trees are blocking my view
This is not my house it’s the house of a friend
Where I’ve come to be for a while by myself
With my friends in the next room playing their games in fantasy
It’s a thing I can’t grasp, living in dice-rolled worlds
Where a hit point is just one more method of protecting oneself
Regardless the trees are blocking my view
My view of three little lights casting shadows on the everyday world of the honest
I wonder briefly, are they fluorescent?
But as I gaze, they glow as lights are wont to
Outside there’s drunken people
Well there’s no proof that they’re drunken people
But they’re usually not so happy without stimulation
They’re singing random notes to the tune of I wish
I was just a little more stoned
So I would not have to see this real, real world
Regardless the trees are blocking my view
They’re blocking my view
Call it an alcove, call it a window seat
Call it an empty room where there’s no one to meet
‘Cuz in the next room unfamiliar people go on adventures in their heads
It doesn’t help that it’s dark
It doesn’t help that the window is two feet wide
It doesn’t help that I’m marking my time
These people I know for no good reason
Are the people I know and give every good reason
For being themselves and not the people they see on television
Listen on the radio, related through an uncle, have the same email service
Caught for a drink a year ago
Caught their eye and they can’t let go
Caught on the street last week with an interesting mannerism