Stand alone on a sad street corner
Waiting for the one who will never come
Be it a bus or a person or a car
It just won’t show up
This is because we are way off the beaten path
Crawling through brush and undergrowth
Picking the burrs from our skin and clothes
Looking out for leaves of three but not quite avoiding them
Thrashing lost through a forest much more beaten than the beaten path
Hope is not in the vocabulary anymore