Admire Street Lamps
When I take long walks at night, the streets are lit.
Tonight the night will be orange as if we are always celebrating Halloween,
feeling like whiskey with each paced breathe.
I stare at houses each time I walk, to see what may take place.
I’ve seen a woman yell,
a birthday party sing, young man smoke, a dog howl,
and a cat stare back.
Though faithfully some nights are different. I stroll through a different road, when the street is split by a stretch of grass and trees directly in the middle. Here I have my hands in my pocket.
My jeans are worn as any member of todays middle class, and my eyes are wide for what ever may be at night. My jacket will by a small crinkle through the dark of the night, often because I’m cold.
This walkway stops for where cars may cross, and begins not twenty-five feet later.
A car will roll by on one side, and another on the other, and I will not stray from the middle.
I walk to imagine what may happens in a lit night. But here I find the houses are getting darker, shade is coming over. My watching self continues on the middle path.
A porch light may flicker and a deer may wander by, but I remain in a place where I can think.
The houses get darker once more. How these street lights remain to let me see in this venturous walk; all that lurks within the night.
What a place to get away, out the door, away from solitude.
How silent everything is, with this still night. Though how these houses have become a canvas to my walk. Black smudges, creeping along side.
The windows remain empty, though I do not fray from the middle path.
I do not question beyond my lit path.
But now that I can no longer see those who live aside my walks,
do they watch?
Do they know?
Who truly walks through the dark?
Copyright © Ian Chandler | Year Posted 2015
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