People at Night
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.
