All

passing headlights
flash, your one eye
lit, blue, penetrating; the other
a glint
but dark.

the same, perhaps, as
the meteor that streamed
blue fire, then gone, then fire
again
then gone.

i am
the night.
you say
things to me, through
me. my cells
are listening in
the form of waving leaves,
streetlamps, a lone
limping drunk.

i want it all
you say. what
is all
i ask. good question
you say.
did you answer?

what is light
is light,
what is dark,
is light.
that is all.