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The Faithless

ISSUE:  Winter 1991

These evening hours of blank heat I feel
utterly alone, until the air ripples a bit
and I think of everyone luxuriating in its
at once, like a congregation. I live, after all,

in town, on a quiet street, in a building
of thirty apartments and at least
as many people, dulled like me, half-
idling near open windows or on landings.

The breeze with its vetch-and-dust scent
touches us all and then departs; how can
not turn our faces away
from the screens, and discount it?


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