I stand outside alone and think,
Shivering and barefoot--
--Though I could have worn shoes
And a jacket,
Though nothing would cure the shivering
Or the naked suffering.
Not a pair of shoes,
Nor a jacket.
Young heathens sit in the gazebo
And disrupt my thoughts,
Commencing in illegal activities:
Marijuana, smoked from a pipe or a bong;
Illegally-bought alcohol,
Purchased through convincing forgery,
Or striking deals with shiftless hobos.
I am alone.
No woman by my side--
Not Woman A, slender, smart and quirky,
Relating to me through a common knowing,
A similar suffering;
Nor Woman B, round-faced and rootsy,
Cute, though somewhat empty
Within her head;
Nor Woman C, blonde and statuesque,
An angel moving swiftly from man to similar man,
Never thinking for a moment to change her plans,
Or try a man of a different sort.
The night grows colder and I still freeze,
Waiting for someone--
--Anyone, though preferably Woman A--
To pass me by, with a smile
And a kind word,
A nod of the head,
An "I'm there too, cold and alone,
But if we joined together,
Perhaps that would solve both our problems."
Nobody arrives.
