John Grey





Sidewalks are silent, dark.
Is that you?
Details are fogged over
but there’s something about the shape, the walk.

What are you doing in this neighborhood anyhow?
Are you on your way to my apartment?
What do you expect to find?
How do you expect to find it?

Since your day,
many buildings have been imploded,
new ones erected.
Streets have been renamed, rerouted.

Retracing your old footsteps,
you might slam into a brick wall,
lose yourself in a maze
of North Main, South Main
and all the little Mains.

I see more clearly now.
The woman is not you.
The man she meets is not me.
Love is always in the air.
But it’s best left with strangers.



John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in That, Dunes Review, Poetry East and North Dakota Quarterly with work upcoming in Haight-Ashbury Literary Journal, Thin Air, Dalhousie Review and failbetter.

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