im perched
crouched on the porch
waiting
patiently
waiting

thigh muscles cramping
a coiled rusty spring
an old metal slinky
waiting
to strike
with sharpened knuckles
and a sharper tongue

under a midnite sky
well past three
i sit
and wait
for the neighboring fools
to make their appearance

the cherry glows hot
the tobacco crackles
and the trees
lose their coats
for the season

and i wait
for a sign
the breaking of glass
the crackling of footsteps
the drunken chuckling
open air pissing

and i think
what a beautiful nite
to be young
and gifted
and i wish
that i were there
again

and i stamp out
my smoke
and curl up with my pets
and wait
for work
to come