Devil in the Details

The city street,
long ago abandoned,
bears curious children
into the world.

The woman,
sitting by the mailbox--
                        though you'd never see her,
                        blind the way you are---
is a regular saint,
She of the Impotents,
telling them she'll never leave
except when morning comes.

She is in love with the man on the stairs,
all men on the stairs,
for there's nothing like a stranger to warm the foundations of your heart.

They share a thoughtful glance,
but then she turns away
and recedes into daylights
beyond his control.

"It's a shame," you say,
"if only they'd discover
they're meant for each other--"
well, no such luck here, pal;
I just go from earth to earth,
stopping at some satellite
when I need a snack.

You'll toss a few choice coins at me,
depart to your apartment buildings
and suburban homes,
and I'll sit there wondering,
"Was I better off in Hell?"




for you know,
even devils need employment.