First thing is learn to
open and close the windows silently.
Grease them if you have to.
Every Gulag must have its reliable tunnels.

And come the late hour,
train yourself to not fall asleep.
Being wide awake at midnight
is as comforting as carrying a weapon.

As out the hatch, from house to tree
and to the ground you slip, tell yourself how
boring it will be when you can come and go
through the front door any time.

Head toward Main Street, a half a mile
away though it feels like you’re going and going.
Meet the guys or the girl at the preordained
time and place, like they’re anybody, anywhere.

Hang out for a while, with a moon that
slipped from under the sun’s nose,
and outside a barroom where more
escapees cock whiskey-red noses at absent keepers.

Everything’s forbidden: your breath, your laugh,
the words you speak that you don’t know
the actual meaning of. And the sidewalk is taboo.
The shuttered stores are outlawed.

The shimmering street lamps are everything
your parents warned you against.
And, instead of dreams, others just like you…
sin never boasted such a cast list.

Then sneak back in, from tree to wall,
through the frame of that window conspirator.
The good thing is that they wont know how
clever you are. The bad thing is the same.