a dog on the streets
ventured out into the calming shadow
of the pallid streetlamp,
and then thought better of its courage.
grooves dug themselves out into the wood
and water flowed through them
like pearly smoke
blown by wasted turbines.
knowledgeable kids waved to their friends.
they saw mirrors walking on streets all day,
and met them like the fleeting stay
of a bullet on a pebble.
the riddle walked untainted
as mundane cars whizzed past.
it thought of itself then,
and then of them.
upturned books wait for their perusing masters,
so that they may lure them
into their articulate mystery,
devour their ignorance
and then rob them of their brains.