Matted carelessly
Cloaked in sweaty shadows
Illuminated by seasonal lighting

A sweater here
A jacket there

My legs fold as men's should
Shaped like 4

Musical accompaniment for a rainy night

Cold, dark, forlorn halls of anticipating kids
Waiting for future to arrive
and kill the rain
Kill the cold
Push their lover into their arms
Inspire a story to tell their grandchildren
Assign a journalist to write their obituaries

Yet my legs fold (like 4)

Looking through strands of jungle hair
Repeating patterns on the floor
Open closet doors
"Happy B-Day" bags

Fast clocks that still cannot catch time
Double-decker beds
Cold, lifeless, hard walls...white like snow (like purity)

Me...folded, leaning, listening

Future is not audible
Only through pitter-patter and sirens
Bells and organs and phones
Here all is silent-

except droning from the wall
and footsteps in the hall

He missed future
We all missed future