This was also written at about the same time.
And it's called "The Policeman and the Drunk".
It's a fairly short poem but it's in two sections.
The first establishing the identity
of the policeman, the second where he encounters a drunk
who's passed out.
And I guess the writing of it came out of a desire
to think my way into a policeman's head walking alone
on a beat.
And perhaps to have some sympathy for the policeman
and the drunk.
He belongs to someone else tonight.
He walks his beat like a stranger in his own town.
He never understood the weather coming down on him
for no reason or his wife who sleeps alone.
Everyone's light goes out.
He knows he would walk all night across the city
to find a friend.
He turns the man over with his club.
Bored but certain as a wife, he rubs the stubble on the cheek
as if it were his own face waking in the afternoon.
The gray buildings press on him.
Cold and shapeless, he lets his arms fall his body bend down
toward the man.
He wants to be cared for.
He would kiss him, he thinks, if he were not a man.
The drunk stirs, stares up and wonders if this is not his wife
or death kneeling over as always frowning,
confused, uttering strange cooing sounds.