The lights

salute from windows

       sidewalk navigators on the bus route

waiting to be saved by a feeling

waiting to be felt by a savior

with a room

          a shower

          a card game

          warm milk

someone to carry them through doors

  to increase them

into morning

The windows

have blinds.

The blinds

have names;

Venetian

Roller

Roman

and somehow

in the quiet

they mean more

than our own

identities.

I do not wait for someone.

I climb through inviting windows.