Brooklyn, Je T'aime

I looked down last night and saw both my knees were wet.
it was as if my knees were crying,
dampening the thin cotton layer
of the pants I die in each night.

Last night as I walked up the cold drive
I began to notice each light on the path,
and what was kept dark-

compare the tea lights on the mute path
tot he eccentric lights tacked to the family porches-
now which set thinks.

Which set has a mind-
oh the muses that i find in lights, wet knees,
and the dark spaces inbetween.