For Fear of Dr. Jekyll

All of these people,

each with an agenda,

people to see, places to go—

newborn they’ll be

in the cold of night

on the downtown streets.

Hand-stamped, beer-drenched, and


in smelly pools of

midnight’s afterbirth.

All of these people

recreating themselves

on the ashes of life unloved,

And then running from the monsters

of their own creation,

contemporary Jeckylls,

fear-filled at

the sight of Hyde.

All of these people

trying to feel invincible, unflawed,

wearing the only mask

they care to wear,

and it’s not good enough.


I wrote this a long time ago about nights on Capital Street. I loved the people, but I sure don’t miss those nights.


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