At half-past 2, on a cool grey day, I looked for you.
Out my cracked bedroom window on 85th street, I looked for you.
As the school bell rang, and the children flowed from the green steel doors, and the echos of laughter mingled with the birds in a rendition of an early winter afternoon song,
In our small town, I looked for you.
As multiple beat-up Chevys drove to and fro, sputtering at stop signs or not really bothering to stop at all.. I waited.. and as always .. I looked for you.
As the crowd of school children got smaller, and the day got shorter, and the sounds got smaller... and my nerves got tighter, and my thoughts got darker,
I looked for you.
When the clock striked five, and the dinner rush emerged, for nights with loved ones over lobster and beer, conversations about their days the sountrack to that night, I sat...
and I waited for you.
The pale moonlight gave me the answer that I had tried so hard to avoid.
You weren't coming.
Another promise broken. Another tear shed. Mascara streaks on swollen cheeks and not even a kiss goodbye.
So on that day, on that street, where the lamp lights only half worked, I stopped waiting. There was to be no more disappointment.
Not from you anyway.
The man came, just like he said he would, and he told me where to go, where the sun shines all the time
At half past 2 I looked for you, and at half past 10, I stopped.