Staring and Remembering

I look at his image for hope.

I look at his image for no answers,

no explanations at all.

holding a can of beer in a train station

somewhere,

near the hamburger joint and the W.C.

to believe there is a time for everything,

a split of a second needed in destiny,

something bound to happen.

to have words turned into music,

a song out of a page, footsteps, a door

opening and someone leaving,

walking streets at night again.