ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS
Sequence: 8
SIDE WALK
Between the streetlamps there are regions of dark. You can't
see anything, your vision melts away to nothing. I want to
help--I always want to help--and in the murk I get to be cau-
tious. Caution is one of my strongest traits, I'm very good
at it, and here it is helpful. "Curb coming," I say, or
"step up," or "the sidewalk is a little rough here." I take
your elbow, I walk so close to you that our thighs brush and
we have to establish a mutual rhythm. My caution now spreads
out like the light from the streetlamps, and I worry what we
look like. I am in a car on the street and I see two men
walking in an embrace. Do I turn my head not to see, do I
point the car at them, do I become excited? I am almost en-
tirely caution now, and I have spread myself up and down the
street. I am in all the houses, peeking out the windows
scandalized in each of my secretive living rooms. I hold my
breath, dangerous to myself. I want to help. I want to help.