I have taken to lacing on my running shoes after
dinner and going out into the twilight for a walk.
The neighborhood goes dark as I walk, and a second
neighborhood unrolls atop the daytime one. We have few street
lights, and those I pass under make my shadow frolic;
it lags behind me, gallops to my feet, gambols on
ahead. The only other illumination is from the windows in
the houses I pass and the moon that orders me
to look up, look up! Feral cats dart underfoot, bird-of-paradise
flowers poke out of the shadows, the air is balmy.
Paraphrases from the story Ghosts and Empties by Lauren Groff.