DARK STREETS AND DEAD ENDS

We're outside a concert hall, ears
buzzing with an excess of decibels.
You're arguing with friends,
spilling your derangements to the air.

The laughter of a small crowd
melts in the distance as I disappear
into the safety of absence.

Fog brings a deadness to the air.
My footsteps intrude on the silence
of dark windows and shut houses
pooling the secrets of those asleep,
or those who try to numb themselves
to sleep who knows where in their dreams.

There's a vacant lot on the corner
that was once the greatest store in town.
Now its just a zone of debris and
moribund weeds with drooping heads.

I turn the corner and enter a street
of glittering shops displaying
things I can't afford.
I look inside the windows
searching for a detour,
remnants of an interrupted dream.
All I see is your reflection,
an afterimage everywhere.

Copyright ©2005 by Marina Lee Sable