I don’t know how to say it. But the road at evening
yesterday resembled a theater in the grayish fog,
the stage vaguely discernible in the fading light
and from afar the actors moving upon it like shadows.
The faraway houses, the yards huddled together
and the branches of trees you’d think were old, discolored sets
where untold actors had played out their curious dramas
and you’d have heard at one time moaning, at another happy laughter.
I don’t know. They came out and met and sauntered
and performed, and it was sad and pleasant all at once
and, oh my God, as they performed night fell
and, oh my God, it fell and lowered its black curtain.