Audience

It was a suspension of droplets spinning; it was the grass laughing; it was watching the crowd jangle through conversation, eat and chuckle and forget you (maybe) with the aftertaste of punch. You saw me (or didn’t see me) but I sat alone on a damp rock. It was feeling your hands In the growl of your saxophone; It was no words; it was my bones smiling; it was hating the absence of applause. I thought (maybe) You really did love me, and it wasn’t just something you said when you knew I was listening.