Whatever nothing pervades/ — a childhood scraped or the stonewall quiet of the universe—/ it is exhausted by the lonely courage of any man walking at night / Nothing, they say, trapping scant generosity for a troubled friend / Nothing, they say, passionately mulling over the act of prayer / Nothing, they say, returning to the same chairs and booths, emptying themselves to one another /receiving full and telling looks, eyes large with light disproportionate to the plot’s stakes