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Grey Serpentine

no one sleeps in this street anymore
from the distance you can hear passing cars
indifferent in their ambling;
occasional aching sirens
with all their alacrity and foreboding;

some houses are boarded up
ripe with abandonment
and stories that go unheard;
the cobblestones all have grime and dirt between their teeth
from millions of past footsteps;
all the wooden surfaces creek
the drainpipes moan
the rain gutters seep

everyone you see is either slow paced
or leaning against a cold wall
their clothes rustle as they move
their shoes already know this part of town by heart
they raise their yellowing arms
to take another puff of nicotine
their mouths missing one tooth
from every cigarette they bummed today

i can smell the stained drapes
the unwashed chamber pots
the rotting crates
the lukewarm liver spots

through all this my steps boom and echo
and i erode my soles with no destination
and i blend into the degradation
and i try to count
every fossilized chewing gum i see
i read every sticker or graffiti

and i miss the wind
and i miss the daylight
and i miss the cues to turn to another street
and i miss the cacophony of sleet

but most of all
i miss sleep

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