Here I Come

An average teenage boy Clunks along the street With his Converse laces Flipping from side to side Catching under the worn soles He stops at the bench. His eyes reflecting the light Reflecting from the illusionary illumined Street sign. BUS STOP The metal of the seat is green. The paint is chipping Worn away by the thousands of Bodies that have sat on it Stood on it Used it Abused it Waited there for a hulking Bus To come and pick them up Like littered pieces of trash Along a citywalk He sits, too. He stares at the overhang Watching how the slight Moonlight Bubbles through the metal netting. Not much good for rain, He muses. Not much good for sun, either. But under the midnight heavens It works well enough. He waits, too. His feet scuff across the pavement His body stationary while his toes wiggle Restless Anxious He sucks his upper lip into his mouth Absentmindedly biting Into the soft flesh It slips from his teeth as he stares, Focused straight ahead Eyes glinting with the curiosity For a great wide somewhere A great wide anywhere That’s not here In the crowded city Another piece of trash along the sidewalk. A car comes rumbling down the street Its headlights like two wavering Lanterns of opportunity This is his chance This is his door opening So he stands in a rush His mind unmoving from those Lanterns And stumbles into the street And his last thought Cuts off and above from the rest Here I come.