the best strangers are more brave than me
covered in skin and wearing things that make them
look like real people on cool  autumn days
ready to love like madness, like cruelty
like lowell in the dark where the full moon is not welcome

they are good-seeming and all sex and filthy
under their finger nails under their socks
under the ground the places they walk alone
surrounded by loved ones and children and
ugly needs shoved between their bones

the best strangers are so brave they like me
covered in skin and wearing poems that make me
look like a real person in the crush of an autumn night
ready to be lunatic like another moon
like lowell in the morning when the river passes by without remark

they are good seeming and still filthy and sex
under the railroad bridge eyes cast at the ground
cast into the canal, cast at the places they want to be wanted
without their loved ones and children and
the lovely desire to be shoved between the bones of the place
and kept secret and lied about and used

the best strangers are much braver than me