NEAL WILGUS
It’s like living in a cave
but with a balcony
where you can go out
and watch the city lights
with a drink in your hand.
Back in the shadows
are the rocks and dust
and endless bones
and the ashes of countless
fires, and in the blackness
beyond there’s something
living but we never know
what it is.
Out on the overlook
you can watch the shifting
patterns of the traffic
and live the sun going down
into the ocean or the desert.
There are the drapes that can be
drawn to keep out the night’s
cold and the morning sun
and the roar of the city.
But it’s that roar
that drives us back
into the shadows of the cave
where we can escape
that awful racket
and the suicidal stress
the balcony allows.
The paintings on the wall
would explain it all
if only we could see them
in the flickering light.