"Let's Say."
"Let's say the dark one night is no metaphor for the dark,
and men in sharkskin suits are real men,
and all their women, real women, dressed to kill.
Let's say your small car is parked
in the unmetaphorical dark, and you're
aware of characters who suddenly distinguish themselves
from lampposts, and you're afraid.
But let's say you can confront your fear
as a sleepwalker confronts stares with an ignorance
graced by years of practice.
Let's say then, you make it to your car,
choosing to believe that the switchblade which
might have opened a second ago, was the man in the sharkskin
suit clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
And the hand that reached from the back seat
to cover your mouth was nothing but a flash
from a movie you saw last week.
Let's say you believe all this because you're in your car now,
and none of your blood is making roses on the floor,
and your headlights have come on in this real dark,
and you can see where you're going.
Let's say you have learned to survive is just part
of what it means to be alive.
What do you do next on the terrifying streets?"