Collected Poems of John Holmes
Holmes, John A., Jr.
Houses are waiting for me in this street.
Windows are eyes, that watch me, quietly.
A woman and a man on soundless feet
Step from house to taxi, closed mystery
To mystery. The next tall girl I meet
Coming around that corner will be she -
But no - well, then, the next. How will we greet,
Good morning" or - the way it used to be?
Over my shoulder than I saw a man
Look over his. If only I could see
Behind these doors, all closed. Maybe I can
By staring hard. The windows stare at me.
From number ten to seventy we ran
One night. That's her door, number seventy-three.