A night that cuts between you and you
and you and you and you
and me : jostles us apart, a man elbowing
through a crowd.       & nbsp;  We won't
&nbs p;         ;     look for each other, either-
wander off, each alone, not looking
in the slow crowd. Among sideshows
& nbsp;     under movie signs,
&nb sp;       &nbs p;     pictures made of a million lights,
&n bsp;       &nb sp;     giants that move and again move
;              again, above a cloud of thick smells,
&n bsp;       &nb sp;     franks, roasted nutmeats-
Or going up to some apartment, yours
&nbs p;         ;     or yours, finding
someone sitting in the dark:
who is it really? So you switch the
light on to see: you know the name but
who is it ?
&n bsp;  But you won't see.
The fluorescent light flickers sullenly, a
pause. But you command. It grabs
each face and holds it up
by the hair for you, mask after mask.
&nbs p;         ;     You  &nb sp;and   you and I   repeat
&n bsp;       &nb sp;       &nbs p;gestures that make do when speech
&nb sp;       &nbs p;     has failed       & nbsp;  and talk
;              and talk, laughing, saying
&nb sp;       &nbs p;     'I', and 'I',
meaning 'Anybody'.
;                 & nbsp;       No one.