Dressed in muted shades of blue;

after midnight,

especially for midnight

…with good shadows?

…with good shadows.

Trembling hands hovering over silverware,

certainly unsure of sunrises, and also which utensils to use,

holding out for that particular silverware,

holding out for some kind of sunrise,

you are not at the dinner table , though,

your time at the long table has passed.

Your spurs gleam in the moonlight, cowboy.

They speak to you,

cowboy.

Crunching under your feet like your walking on broken glass,

or broken plates,,,

wait for your tumbleweeds to pass,

and for someone, anyone to sweep up that broken glass,

or broken plates,,,

You are not in a western.

and there is no one else in your corner now.

You were absent from our bonfires.

Now it’s just you and the howling winds,

You stand right where houses wish to stand,

in a neighborhood I hope they’ll never finish,

with feet you wish you had,

holding out for some kind of sunrise.