An empty shape white on white But I think I see a black slip of a shadow on a moving stairway A kite winder zig-zagging across the snow hatted hill A faint silhouette against the bald blue sky I am not convinced But I am still hoping it is you The shape of your mouth barely moving parched by the dry air and the waiting But you are still too far away to be certain If it is you The sun at mid-sky the shadow at his feet or where his feet might be seems to be growing My eyes slitted like a serpent I see him but only because I am looking so hard hoping not to see him turn away Soon it will be too late His long stride making ladders in the snow And I would have to wait another day An eternity Provincetown, 2023/2025
Hiding Out