listening

i remember as a kid
sleeping outside in
the yard in sleeping
bags with my friends.
and we'd talk through
the night about baseball,
and girls, and the stars
that were as endless
and deep as we thought
our lives would be.
it was hard to sleep
as we listened to the
crickets, to the silence,
to the light sounds
of televisions flickering
black and white in
the houses nearby.
the ground was hard,
and often wet with dew.
and when all of the lights
went out, and the dogs
stopped barking we'd listen
to adults making love
in their darkened bedrooms,
the strangeness of their
voices, their whispers
haunting as we lay
with our eyes wide open
our hearts finding another
speed, unknown up until
that point in time.