Fear at dusk

(from City) Oct. 10, 1978 Jack-the-ripper fog light wavers on these greasy streets,A shimmer on the steel teeth of closed grocers’ gatesA fire light that whispers over the pavement under my feetCatching on the leaking oil left by rusting automobilesSpreading as if caused by each step I take in this early nightTrash spills out from the broken gates of the Red and WhiteLike escaping prisoners with no guard to contain themYet as alone as I am under the glow of this dying dayAnd as threatened by the hidden dangers of dusk,Roaming wolves of the ghetto watching from deep shadowsEach passing face like mine a victim to a lottery of crimePoor savaging poor because the rich are too remote,Yet with pathetic returns that keep them at it,Each face I pass in the dark scarred with a Zorro strokeThe dread that always comes at this time of nightWe all the canvas for this bloody graffiti,Like the walls of the church or the undersides of windowsEach a permanent mark left on each psycheAs we all huddle against the chill afraid to breathe