Lamp Posts

I wonder what the lamp posts see

with their faces all a glow,

underneath a sky so empty

and black as the feathers of a crow.

Do they see nocturnal creatures

search the trash for a delight?

Scanning boxes, cans, and wrappers,

deciding which to take a bite.

Do they see the owl that I hear

before I go to sleep?

Spotlighting all the tiny rodents near,

then snatched before they make a peep.

Do they see the tired businessmen

finally trudging home,

or those whose day has just began

once they see the lamp light shone?

Do they see unfaithful husbands

driving slow, no headlights on?

A wife and child to attend,

but she has no clue where he’s gone.

Do they see the young man, new to town,

heading home a little drunk?

I wonder if they begin to frown

as he totters and hits the pavement with a *thunk.*

Do they see the drunken college girls

walk to the fifth bar of the night,

but when the lightweight bends down and hurls,

they unanimously change their minds?

Do they see the couple leave the bar,

they just met and called it fate?

Do they see her get into his car

and not even hesitate?

Do they see apartment 304,

the kitchen light still on,

pictures thrown over the floor,

someone quickly packed and gone?

Do they see her walk in the next room

turning on the faintest light?

She sobs into her hands with gloom,

they weren’t supposed to leave tonight.

Do they see the stranger walk alone,

looking as though he could take flight?

Do they see the girl he just walked home?

Their future’s looking bright.

Do they see me look at them with fright,

my surroundings now obscured?

What’s happened in this bubble of strife?

Some stories are better left unheard.