Walking with you on the dark street,
between tenement rows,
tall and dark and sinister,
abandoned to the dream of fire,
the reality of rats,
human or beast,
half seen in shadow,
darts into an alley ahead—
is he waiting for us?
is he afraid of us?
we stop momentarily—
should we keep going?
should we turn on our heels and retreat?
how odd that I should ask myself this
when I step out with the devil.