I chat and chat with a friend of a friend,
then walk home through the warm light night
of town, a little hungry
to be somewhere with stars, not just this moon
swollen with blood,
that got too near the ground.
Gerald Friedman grew up in the suburbs of Cleveland, Ohio, and now teaches physics at Santa Fe Community College in New Mexico. He has published poems in various magazines, recently Panoply, Entropy, Bombfire, and Rat's Ass Review.