Around the Block
--Keith Waldrop 

I will go for a walk before
bed, a little stroll to settle
the day's upsets. One thing always
follows another, but
discretely-- tree after
telephone pole, for instance, or
this series of unlit houses. One moment follows
another,
helplessly, losing its
place instantly to the next. Each frame
fails, leaving behind
an impression of motion. 

As for death, at the moment I
think it strangely overrated. 

Who now could build
houses like these? who
could afford to? They loom
in the evening of the
East Side, memory-traces
of sometime wealth. Dust
seems forever settling, but
must somehow recirculate. 

Once around the block
will do. Porch after porch projects
its columns, seeming one dark and
continuous dwelling. And fear continues,
eternal night shuttering each
source of light. How
remarkable, how remarkably
pleasant, not to be
asleep, still discriminating
dips in the sidewalk, reading
the differences between shadows.