Between beliefs and sidewalks,
around corners and alcoves,
Indian summer and fog
sneak in on muffled steps.
A shadow more than history
from fresh abstract to old age,
the innocence of youth subdues
in subdivision and rational grids;
a suburb tame as tattered jeans,
more a feeling than a purpose,
more effective than form or function.
Autumn days of opiate rakes,
northern winds prick fervent leaves,
and whirls those resting peaceably
across curbs and asphalt, wither,
pooling in corners of common cause,
sloshing dry the memory of
a proclamation in destination,
a bonfire, brisk and rasping,
to and fro, to and fro;
as myths enchanted to the flicker
transcend to smoke and crackle.