Long walks at night--
that's what good for the soul:
peeking into windows
watching tired housewives
trying to fight off
their beer-maddened husbands.
I've lived for years in a slum neighbourhood infested with drunks. I often go for long walks late at night.
In the city you can't see the stars. I've never looked in a window and seen a drunk chasing his wife about.
It just doesn't happen.
You are in the mind of the man. You can't be disappointed or happy about what he says. You can accept it, or not accept it. Its a poem. Its a fleeting moment in time when he had those thoughts.