a sign

i was waiting for a sign
for something to shake this tree
of yellowish leaves
born in shreds and mended by wind

i am someone else tonight
and tomorrow night
but don't you come lecturing
me on how to be
what i'm supposed to be
when all you accumulate is doubts
you can't claim to have a plan

silence stays heavy
under shelf clouds
it's true. it occupies space
but negates any resolution
any rendering
shoving outcomes realistic or not
under another dusty rug of it-takes-time's

for b.j.