sometimes bad looks different

Evening and Slow


I will tell you of the street night and
Peace - late after a storm, and haze on
The corners. The car strolls from
Lamp to lamp. Meets no traffic.
Night’s gotten cool but still humid.
There’s a breeze and a cross
Breeze. I have dimmed all the
Dash lights to nothing. Fog lights duck into
The roadsides and sidewalks and yards.
I see no fences; will not escort alleys.

The beers open themselves. They siss and
Glugg cool and cold. And disappear without alarm.
I am risking everything in the safest way.
The streets must be seen. They are sharing their
Joy with me. It makes me a criminal. The
World only opens sometimes. And now it’s open,
Asleep and alive.

There must be day and night.
Each carries invisible stillness and slow. Sunlight
Shows daylight and everything glow.
Night shows the insides of things.
Tonight is time between the two. Both
There and not there are on the yards and sidewalks.
The whole world opens and receives and gives. There is
Shade in the pole of the street lamp.

Then home calls through haze to come home. The last thing I
Saw was a small boy with a small fire fishing
On the dark bank in the park.

ds