On a Dead End Street
On a dead end street, I parked my feet
Predetermined by me, myself, and eye.
Laughing at my silliness. Running in the same circle.
A loop that others called out.
I ignored them.
He’s gone they said. Kaput. It was more than a hint.
But there was no note.
Don’t leavers write one?
I thought I knew him.
But he had blocked me.
From his phone and from his mother’s house.
She would not even come to the door
And I sat in her driveway for six hours.
A stalker?
Maybe.
Actually I just want to know.
Is it over?
I am still out here, punching buttons.
On a dead end street. where I have parked my feet.
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