i am sitting on the exit doorstep

of my roof

smoking a cigarette

talking to you

feeling you

can you hear me, strange man?

i am speaking to you through this night

staring at the

mauve

clouds heavy

with the reflection

of

grey city lights.

this night is cold and glossy

twinkling and serene

and i'm remembering

all those

other nights

speaking to you from a distance in the dark

the nights since the beginning of my life

and now

you're a stranger no longer

i know those green eyes

and that tenderness running

its fingers

on my thigh

the warm voice of home

the still silence

standing with you on your

back porch

smoking cigarettes

watching the rain

the snow

and soon the sun will

shine strongly again

and the cats will come

out from hiding

they'll wander, strut in the

back alley and parking lots

and we'll be

there together

standing

still