There are streets as beautiful as pitchers of water
— the secret is knowing how to weigh them
and how to get every last drop they hold.

I've been walking them lately.
They're all alike — it's hard to believe
how alike they really are!
The tree-lined street that passes my house
and Main Street with its traffic lights
and Broadway, the uphill street.

At times I feel resigned to them,
but there are days my emotions build up
and I long to get away, leave everything behind
and just keep walking. But I have to tell myself,
Hold on! Other streets will come.
Some beautiful San Francisco street,
another even finer in Buenos Aires, or in Toronto,
or in New York, or in the small town
where I live.

But every day
when I return to my home street,
I tell myself the time to leave for good
must be just around the corner: these dreary streets
aren't enough for me, and I still haven't poured
all the pitchers in the world.