<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=429660" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>In the Next Street</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">there’s only ever one argument: his, <br>bawling out whoever punctuates<br>the brief intervals his cussing<br>| interrupts, something unheard, reason perhaps.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What you never get is silence, <br>always some groan on the horizon <br>out on the borders of attention <br>where would be quiet if they let it.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Always some conversation far away, <br>foreign, banal. dramatic, translated<br>it means my wife’s name is Judit.<br>I am an engineer from Spidertown.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What to reply? Your Majesty,<br>my name is Smith. All lies anyway,<br>all we do is get drunk, the evening’s end <br>collapsing loosely into gutturals.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We drink to silence, where the stars think. <br>We drink to the music of the rain on the roof. <br>We drink to mothers, brothers, lovers, kids, <br>to the candle burning down its length</div><div style="margin:10px 0">till someone blows it out. Distance <br>makes no difference, the same want<br>for love or money, the numbers of the winning line<br>in the state lottery like a needle in the brain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And then I’ve had enough. I want<br>to go home now, far away, to plug myself <br>back into the sockets, the blackbird,<br>the evening humming stories to itself,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">everything in its place, the moths, <br>the mouse in the mousetrap, and <br>in the next street the same old argument. <br>He’s sure he’s right.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ken+Smith">Ken Smith</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=429660" data-title="In the Next Street de Ken Smith" data-description="there’s only ever one argument: his, bawling out whoever punctuates the brief intervals his cussing | interrupts, something unheard, reason perhaps. What you never get is silence, always some groan on the horizon out on the borders of attent..."></div> </div> </div>

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