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Friday, August 17, 2007

Inherit the Streets

drooping, exhausted and hard,
deep-run lines
run across the shadows
that inherit the streets
as home.

they are obsolete
to all but the state
of affairs:
not our own affair
at all.

skins grey with
travel, sagging from
windswept nights;
they do not dwindle
with town lights.

the sky is ceiling,
the stars are light
on a landing:
steps too high to take
just yet.

they carry their bags
on their backs,
too light for a lifetime,
too heavy for the day,
they hunger.

their mind is a
map of routine,
of deep-run lines
that pull down
the shadows.

hidden with beards
or jumbled mumbling,
they go forward;
knowing they can
never go back.

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