Sidewalk Asteroids

As if a lure cast towards me
the walk light goes on,
so straight it is, I guess.
Original plan was to turn right.
Original plans never turn out right.

Dodge the man in the shadows -
stumbles – mumbles – stumbles.
I step into the bare boxed tree bed
just to hear the deciduous crunch,
sounds of my autumnal youth.

Heat clings to the inside of my wool trousers.
So much beastie boys
from darkened lounges and heavy bars.
Car tires hum rum as they pass
on the rocks.

I like to play asteroids
with sidewalk trash cans,
one hand shoved into a pocket,
the other swinging by my side
to break my fall.

P.W. Trethaway