It is when a streak of cirrus vapor
PAints the auburn night sky,
The man stood alone on the worn asphalt,
Wondered whic direction might he look.
Where to glance, who to ask
How to define the very nature of being.
Wants suggest we be like him, her, them,
We all do it, yes it is true,
All of us waitvwith curiosity,
Hoping no one might notice,
Nobody sees him, no one
Can see his eyes,
Where the real story lives,
The true reason of constant agony,
Always knowing, always looking aware,
Someone knows he is convinced,
Waiting, patiently, philosophical,
He might ask,
When will the other shoe drop.
No, no, let each other figure it on our own …
We will all be ok