not much breathes behind these windows
that pass by me
as i stream along the highway through
an almost total darkness, strange houses
with no lights, leaning in the wind, silent
yards and parked cars,
sometimes the blue
flicker of a television set from
a bedroom window peaks out from behind the glass
the headlights
cut through all this and guide
me along the single lane highway
at midnight on a thursday
everything here is settled tonight,
no arguments or fist fights,
noone is
stumbling carelessly across the lawns, after a few too many
everything fades into a fine-tuned slumber
and the restless legs of dogs
are chained comfortably trees in nicely mowed
backyards and all is quiet
except for the sounds of a few crickets
and the slight
whimper of a dog who just had a dream
he was running
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem