the night clings
to my skin
as it was meant to
spring is over
petals of blossomed
trees
hang on cobwebs
the car stereos blast
from the streets
and indoors
a man sings
i shall be released
to empty seats
worn booths with
the leather torn
dusty red drapes on both sides
of his stage

only i
am here
my palms outstretched
like a cat gazing
outside a window
waiting

my palms outstretched
asking
when? how?
can anyone see
this as now as me
and
who will it be?