from the darkness of the street
I can look inside at other lives.
there are no lamps on the corners to blind
my eyes, the softness of darkness envelopes me
and no one can see me from the inside
of the brightly lit houses I walk by.
on Grove Street, I see dreamcatchers in windows,
I hear a flute, and a man downstairs watching
a cycling race.
I wonder if they are happy, or are they
trying capture new dreams to replace the