Some days I'm afraid of
-the wall-

From the here-and-now
I can hear the music and
feel the rumblings of trees
shooting
up
beyond the brick
and running ivy.

I can hear the laughter of
friends and children and a lover
I have yet to love
fizzling through the cement cracks.
It's just a whisper when it reaches me,
but I want to know them
so badly.

Silhouettes in orange windows
of tall and beautiful buildings
dance, because they have time to dance,
and they know that dancing is important,
and I want to dance with them
so very badly.

I know I'm over there too,
leaning on that wall,
watching the sun
setting on something wonderful
while I sit
in this bivouac,
Here-and-Now.

He's leaning
and breathing,
and dreaming of the
sunset eclipsing wall,
and drinking in the light
like a fish,
and I want to know him
and dance with him
because I have time to dance.

I want him to remember me
so badly,
when he's leaning and smiling
and dancing in beautiful buildings
and loving, and being loved.

Some days I'm afraid of
-the wall-
but I know the sun is setting on something
beyond my view.

And even if the sun simply lingers for a few
moments more on
some empty vista,
I will smile and lean
and love every contour
with all of my being.