It is too late to sing
‘Wish you were here’
At the park in early spring
Under rainfall and bad covers.
It is too late to ride bikes
To race by the river trail
Fast through flashlights
A thousand stars beneath us.
It is too late to write
About signs and fights
In the drunken crowds
Too late to see a light
I blame this darkened room
Songs, sights, sarcasm, you.

Loud noises in the room are galaxies away
The waves of color on the wall paralyzed me
I lie my head next to them, unsurprised
I hear unfamiliar voices asking ‘why don’t you go for it’
I don't believe in anything anymore
Not the words I pretend not to listen
Not the forms on the wall
Not the green spots in your eyes
I stand in the same place, wanting
Without moving a finger to grab it.