Am I My Brother's Keeper?
Of course not. I must walk aloof, alone,
And clutch my dear possessions close to me:
Pomp and power; prizes I’ve sought, and won!
And since I have no “brother” of my own
I have no one to keep or help, you see,
“Each man for himself”—that is how it’s done!
And help I ask from anyone is none.
…At least that’s how I’ve tried to make it be,
Until suburban coldness stills my heart
And I grow sick of living inwardly,
Discovering my neighbors aren’t made of stone,
(Chain-link fences can’t prison us apart)
As cautiously our nervous voices start
Exchanging greetings in that iced Unknown.
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