How long can
all this speculation
go on,
all the maybes,
the perhapses,
the we'll just wait and see(s?)
All the buying,
and the selling,
the negotiations
for some supposed space
like it's our most precious
commodity.
How long can we stare
at computer screens
always waiting,
always on,
always telling us
who we are
or who we are
supposed to be?
How long can we stand
to watch each other
plastered to our seats
thinking we're moving
closer
when we're only drifting
farther away?
How long until it feels
like this is ours
and not some interview
you've seen a thousand
times before
on late night TV?
How long until I find you,
the you who can make
this real with joy, pain
and everything in between,
make me finally accept
the transience of me?
How long until we surrender
and let ourselves age and decay,
bloom one last time,
then finally fall away?
Please, can someone, anyone
just tell us
how long until this hold out ends,
and the subways start running
again?
12/27/05 - Brooklyn, NY
