Acquainted

"I have been one acquainted with the night."

-- Robert Frost

--

No delusions of Frost, but it was cold.

My bus came back a little after four. It is almost five now. In the morning. My heart has raced as my body walked for an hour. The most dangerous hour of my life, it feels like.

Though if I had to choose a time to walk from the heart of downtown Cinci, through the city streets and open steaming alleys, up Reading Road past the highway with the darkness of thick trees on my left, around the underbelly of Over the Rhine, stepping past faces planted on doormats (breathing bodies warm with threat) and peering desperately for police cars and taxis; if I had to pick any hour out of the entire week to make that walk, it would have to be between four and five in the morning on a Sunday.

I turned up my collar against the cold, as they say, and my shadow looked like a nerdy vampire. Hiking. On his way to the bloodsuckers convention. It was best when I passed a tall metal gate, and the slitted shadow sliced my silhouette, like a streetwise strobe.

--

The homeless sleep on street graters, absorbing heat as it vents in steam. I fingered the change in my pockets, ready to be accosted. My eyes were wide. My neck was tense. My backpack was heavy; my shoulders ache from the weight. When I farted, I farted in spurts, between steps, incidentally, contributing to the night smog. We each do our fart.

--

The hardest part was the last climb. Reading Road ascends as it winds, curving like a helix up past abandoned factory shells and gaping parking lots, up to McGregor Avenue. The hills are steep. I plodded along on tired feet.

At one point I thought I heard a gunshot and wheeled around. It was a car's tire exploding on the highway. Sucks to have that happen at this hour. Makes you feel good to be walking.

There were no luminary clocks tonight. Smog, or clouds. But there were city lights, sad lanes and far-off cries. A touchstone in the night. In the dark, in the danger. The frost appeared on windshields, growing slowly in the chill from the river, and Frost appeared in my mind.

I, too, growing slowly in the chill from the river.