From each house on the street,
the blue light of the news.
Someone’s dog whirps three times
and scuffs the leaves.
It’s quiet, a school night.
The President and his helpers
live at one end of the news,
parents at the other.
The news for today
is tape recordings
of dry ice, sports
for today is weather.
Lights go back into the walls.
These might as well be
my neighbors. The news
uses us all to travel by.
I might as well be one
of their children, bees
sleeping thse treaty of honey.
The news will find me soon.
I veer between
two of their houses
home through the woods.
by William Matthews