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.