Between the Shows
The movie's over. Credits died to darkness. Light unfolds like plants Unfurling and sped up, The curls to slender Crooked green. The janitors are cleaning Aisles all around me, Behind, Before. I should've left here Several minutes ago. The silence dead Between the shows. I sit alone And stare at empty silver, Lost, untethered. I've no idea what you wanted But it wasn't me. - 6/10/25