Halls

Looking for a lost dog in a field of nothing
but husks and the kinds of caterpillars that
roll into a ball when you pick them up.
Spilling sparkling cider on the turquoise
counter at her parent’s house after opening
night, and not being able to drive home
without running red lights.
There are places out there without any light,
without any visual details what so ever.
Sometimes I wish I could be in those places.
Like a visitor in a museum locked in after
it closed; I would wander the halls and
wonder about the past in the darkness.