The Street 

by Marc Mangel

The Street

 

Walking with the dog on a street

not so old yet so lonely

lonely and silent

in the city yet not within the

bowels of the city

burrowing through time and space

from absolute technocracy to ultimate void

 

When the few street lamps not burning

but shedding

metallic simulation of light are behind

the stars

beging to pop like holes

in a black crepe cover first a few then

a million tiny acid burns in the

shroud

 

A street amidst only the air

buried in silence so heavy that

only the wind can diffuse through

and gently rock the

falling asleep trees

sometimes playing a sweet melody on

a harpsicord of brown and green

 

Shadows of the street

begin to prance in

ritual extinct for centuries

beginning their dance with slowness and

uncertainty

ending in a lustful crescendo of form

and shape buried together

 

Walking the dog on a lonely street

that only knows itself as eternity

can only know

 

 

May 1973