The visitor

On my porch
a lizard crawls out of a wet newspaper
his artichoke-green body
a shard of lichen-coated stone come to life
after an eruption in some river.

His tongue flicks in and out,
a coin refused by a slot,
and he dips its forked end
in my fallen wineglass.
The last red drop slithers
into his thin mouth.

He's slow walking away
as if that were enough to get him drunk.
He slinks down the front steps
and across the driveway
carrying my whole world with him
in a way neither of us understands.