Still

Street

Image by JMC Photos via Flickr

A poem by Zoltan James

In the still of the night.

I stand still. Like a tree.

And, yet, I still don’t know why.

Why, would I stand so still?

In the night. In the street.

Under a dark street lamp.

After all, I could get run over by a bus.

In the dark of night I stand. Still

That’s me. A lonely man.

Hands in my pockets. Heart on my sleeve.

There’s no one else around

And, then I hear a sound

But, the sound. It can’t be found

Maybe a tree fell in the forest.

Still. I think I’m in love with you.

Yes. You. But you’re not here.

Standing with me in the dark

Holding hands like we did in the park

In the still of the starry night.

Still. I don’t know why you left.

Did you grab the earlier bus?

With that other guy, the geek.

The Apple aficionado. The Vegan.

Which begs the question:

How do you meet a Vegan?

In the still of the night.

I stand still with my Dell laptop

Confused. Hoping you return.

Waiting for you and the light

With my roast beef sandwich

Long gone soggy in my pocket.

Waiting for the bus that never wants to come.

# # #

Remember. Make Every Hour Your Happy Hour!

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