How We Carry On

when she is drifting off
to sleep and the sounds of this
grinding city have dissipated
to the eye-line of resting moths

and one can hear the fireflies
turning the ache of longing
into light, I carefully, place
my head on the pillow and say:
     good night, baby,
     tomorrow's going to be
     a good day.

when she wakes
she slides her hand
across the length of
my body, slowly opens
her eyes and says:
     ahh baby, we are two
     very lucky sonsofbitches.