feeling, in the dark
& undecided. lights which
search for room between
us. room that exists
only because i
allow it.
questions shouted over the noise
of people partaking in savage acts,
on this floor turned to a sea.
questions that i naively
mistake for polite conversation. oh,
why am i so unrushed, so unsteady?
when your mouth meets mine i
turn away, apologetic & dizzy.
later
in the street i
refuse eye contact.
rub my red nails against
black gloves, sit on the
pavement as someone follows.
this is hardly a compliment;
just a regret, pinned between
the plainness of days.
it would not have been so bad
if plans were not made to shock me,
since i never supposed that
shaking your hand would
lead you into thinking
this & that, all-in-
between.
&
can i
still be
a wallflower?
flag down taxis between
shopping strips, & while
sitting at the bus stop i
begin to grin. laugh. surely
that was not me?
then singing the blues
at one in the morning,
i'll never know a sunday...
i'm on the bus & feeling
alive ((forgetful)). & conversation
in the corner draws me in. i have no
answers, just ways to distract.
would that be enough?
if only for now?
&
can i
still be
a mystery?
in front of a fireplace
i discover that i am keyless,
unable to enter my own home.
& at four in the morning
i have stumbled into
a friend's bed.
i am unable to sleep
in this unfamiliar room
& the absence of city sounds
seems to make me more alert.
toss&turn, turn&toss
for a full hour,
until thought
becomes
chaos.
&
can i
still be
me?