I started to go in to bed with everyone else, but
as I turned to close the sliding
glass door, I caught sight
of the light.
Those hard cut-out shadows cast
by the patio furniture
were not from any streetlight,
but the nearly-bursting moon,
fervently beaming all over the valley,
crackling through hushed desert air,
slamming light off the concrete.

My grandparents’ mansion reclines on a hill
looking out across Dove Hollow in ranch-land, southern California,
into the holdings of other palatial residences
one hillside over.
They face each other in uncomfortable
camaraderie—it feels safe, cozy, this night-time curl
of inward-facing millionaires, but a little
too easy to look through each others’
illuminated picture windows.

Swimming in the infinity pool
with my mom this afternoon
were a dozen stupid and angry
bees, who must have thought a dip looked
inviting. We scooped them out
with the same long-handled pool net that,
later,
my dad used to capture the baby
black widow
we found under the lip of the Jacuzzi.
As I sit here on the patio,
I’m in the middle of one of the light-colored squares
of concrete ringing the pool.
I was going to sit on the edge
of the planter, but today Joan warned me
that’s where the black widows were most infested.
Here on the light concrete, I reason,
I’ll see a little dark shadow coming towards me
before it’s too late.
Joan also told me about
the scorpion she found in the front doorway,
and how before they had the exterminator come
they would go to the bathroom at night
with their feet hoisted in the air,
out of the invisible scuttling insects’ way.

The people here have orchards
for tax reasons.
They keep a whole room off the kitchen
to store the booze.
You can look across the way and see fences
rolling beautifully across acres
of empty, arid land.

A neighbor’s Chihuahua’s throat
was slit ear to ear by coyotes,
a few months back. They say
the coyotes call to the dogs, invite them into the pack,
then turn on them and attack them.
Well, when the neighbors found their Chihuahua,
they took him to the emergency vet straightaway
and saved his life.
But the very next time that dumb dog heard the coyotes calling—
“Here, we’re here, your wild desert freedom is here—
Your rough & tumble gang
from the wrong side of the tracks—
Your brethren cauterized by hard life,
your tough brotherhood, your tarnished paladins—
We’ll take you in
if you can take the heat—“
That crazy dog ran away to join them
a second time.