Where I Do Not Know


I heard their hooves on the street where my parents live.
I heard it inside a corner of my dream and before
I even knew I was awake and climbing off the
Futon mattress and squinting night eyes through the
Blinds. And the parade of does and their
Fawn proceeded up the street as if they were
On a way to who knows maybe Lincoln Road then
Down the hill for an early start gambling
On the riverboat. I was their only
Company, me and the neighbor’s misdirected
Motion-sensing garage light that shouldn’t
Switch on just for passing traffic.

I’d been here before. Not with misplaced
Deer on my parents’ doorstep, but hearing
Footsteps on a road. Early enough before
Black cabs got to running over speed humps,
I heard metal on stone coming on and
Stumbled in the grey to spy the pair of
Equestrians chatting easily as they
Cantered down the London road at
5:30 a.m. It was summer: it must be summer
Because no snow in any direction
Muffled their hooves, and the weight of
The dreams in both cases made me
Unsure of what I’d seen. Made me
Pack the animals and their passing
By into memory recall carefully for
Reuse.

Now I stand on any partially lit
Street differently, in a doorway
Eyeballing any Toyota go by or
Pale neighbor pass and feel an
Anxious sweetening in the way I want to see:
Hooves on cobbles, night feet on
Pavement, and us all animal shadows like questions
Come along;
Deer or love, from
A place I can’t explain and
Heading
Where I do not know.

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