Chagrined Nights At Alexandrite Street Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

At Alexandrite Street,
The nights were
No different
Than those
Stretches of time
That carried the
Tarnished names
Of dead exploits.

I can’t remember
A forked road,
But what I remember
Is a fractured woman
Underneath an
Even more fractured night.

Even the forked roads
Are empty
The cars scattered
All across the streets -
Unmanned,
Covered with darkness.
I see myself
Burning inside
All of the automobiles
Simultaneously.

From going to Alexandrite
And leaving,
I have never
Felt as vacuous
As an empty box
Of silken things.
I grew jealous
Of the cars
That had company -
Each car sat idly
Next or behind
The other
It’s like a caravan of
Sleeping children.

I had no one there
As I walked out
Of the perdition.
The guard saluted
Me with derision -
I felt more and more
Alone
And the cars gave
Hoarse laughs
As I left.