Accompaniments

They follow you across
The no outlet street,
Wailing for milk from
Some mysterious teat,
Our little accompaniments.

Shake the rattle, old man
With a pacifier between your gums,
Or they will spend an eternity
In the candy store
Passing chocolate Roman coins.

How many are there?
Just enough to balance
The mobile they hang from,
But not so many that the good
Figurines outnumber the bad.

Boy with a hoop, the valley
Is darkening like a cup of tea.

To the rest of us, the lonely,
Up late staring at an empty street,
Let those accompaniments take care
Of our Etch-A-Sketched portraits
Riding in their handlebar baskets.