Night. City street after rain.
\nEarly autumn leaves cling to the pavement
\nlike wet hair on a waiting face.
\nAmber and blue incandescence
\nlies in pools for walking entrances,
\nperformances and exits,
\nas the occasional soloist mimes
\nman walking alone on the street at night,
\nor woman hurrying home, face averted.
\nEach passage punctuates with a semicolon:
\nmore of the same to come.<\/p>\n
Streetlamps hollow out faces, obscure Walking home on a wet autumn evening can stir the imagination. (#950) Continue reading
\nintent: anything could inhabit each mask;
\nany act could ignite each pool of light,
\nriver of dark. Nobody expects the
\npainful imposition of words out of the dark:
\nExcuse me, but could you<\/em>\u2014
\nis enough to encourage shivering,
\ncrossing the street briskly. And it’s all right:
\ndarkness anonymizes. Soon one expects to
\nreach home.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"