saturday

a whole lot of nothin'

waiting for the gate to open

the ringing bell

days and months and years finally

tired and well-worn

slide ghostly behind

and here i am

another saturday

words now

miles davis on stereo

hazed thought, grizzled hair

dimmed lights, reflections

so much has come

so little for wanting

roads go forward

paths, winds in sullied arch

leading out, beyond this

what is

this punctuated quiet

and me here

another saturday night

lost to the clouds