These streets.
These streets, are wet,
stern with the gloss of grey cement.
Mean to say.
The sly grace of those
who walk them
with unconsidered pace
and talk them -
glittering in the askance light
and brimming dark.
In their sad hoorahs
in sad bars
they are
still
somebody.
For somebody is everyone
in these glowing streets,
these mean-time streets.
Hello and cheerio.
And, someday -
someday
please say
these streets are
ours.
Ours for the while,
me and you.
James Mills
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/so-times/
