Sit there just as you have, under the pale moonlight, with your legs crossed. One over the other, just so. You have your lighter in your hand as you light another cigarette. It's red light a small beacon that reveals your face in the dark with every puff. You've never said a word nor a phrase nor even a short sentence, but what is it that flows from your lips but your words in another form, eating up the silence and leaving no room for mine. What would I say to you, while I clench my pipe between my teeth, subtly indenting the wood. We've said enough, we've said all there is to say, taking each others words while staring across the table. We're just two unknowns sitting in the dark exchanging imaginary glances, wondering what it'd be like to cross the line. Cross it and see the reaction. Is it how you feel? Ready to burst ready to run, ready to say STOP. And walk away, back to the light and the sounds and all those other people. I've tried to stand, but it feels as if I've been struck behind the knees. You're taking another drag, with your legs crossed just so. And somehow I know its the same for you.