There's no end tonight.
Sat at the same desk
waiting for the next chapter to walk in
but nothings moving
just the aspidistra nodding
to the tireless fan,
the Venetian blinds
blowing the scent of
rain soaked streets.
Down below the street lights
change to noone.
A single green light blinks
In the direction of the harbour.
An ant crosses the great plains of my desk.
I sit back and write my obituary on a knapkin,
one eye on the door,
waiting for a shadow
that never comes.