"Waxing or waning? "

you in your coat
writing a note,
"dear sal, i hope you'll agree. . . "

then catching a bus,
just after dusk,
a one way trip to the city.

a cold water flat.
a hot plate,
a hat.
the want ads are strewn on the floor.
and you get so mad, when your ma and dad
reflect when you look in the mirror.

but i see you there
nude at the top of the stairs
(but so far away)
and i recall all
your dreams and your schemes
moving me.
the plans that we made,
a street serenade

you can't be like your brother and mike,
content just to live and get by.
i hope that your fine,
at 13th and 9.
waxing or waning?
your call.

but i see you there
alight at the top of the stairs
but so far away
and i recall all your
hands and your plans moving me
the sense that it made
a street serenade.