Sharing the earning, musicians drink their last drinks.
Quiet ballad sounds indicate a closing time.
I get up.
Without looking at the clock I know it’s time to go.
Empty cigarette box remains on the table.
Approaching the counter, I ask for a bill.
My order didn’t arrive but I will pay it anyway.
I’ve never been stingy.
It’s freezing cold outside.
And too dark.
Where was my mind?
What was I waiting for?
Scarf covers my mouth.
I’m not going to take off the gloves.
Not even if I meet someone.
Coldness knows no decency.
Anyway,I’m just a stranger here.
I won’t worry for my bad English anymore.
I keep walking, mumbling to myself.

speechless poet
looks at the empty sky
waiting for reply

Liked to New Skin


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