I've been reading Ray Bradbury
and he reminded me of this old poem
from Another Life.
This is
Who
So this is who
walks around at 2 AM
in the
neighborhood all blacked out
except for the
tall amber street lamps
spaced every
block and a half
I’m out walking
the baby
in charge of
wide-eyed insomnia
when the leaves
of the willow
rattle behind us
and ahead
a rabbit darts
over the street
silent as a dream
going home
to sleeping home
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