There's a purple could outside

blue-gray haze of trepidation

at the absence of myself

from the days that I live in.

Rain

drips over my head

and the lovers

who like everyday wait for the bus with me.

Their voices

mute

to all but complaints of the situation that surrounds them.

To some rain is a blessing

while to others its a curse

I'm still deciding.

These lovers seem alone immune.

He's kissing her again

tenderly

pressing his lips to hers

and she

like a playful kitten excepts his love with mutual affection.

The on coming day is all but a whisper now

in the morning

of rain

and blue-gray trepidation.

The mad man-

(the woman hater)

like always is screaming again

coming off his nightly booze

and lack of loveliness

to calm him down.

"Arabic Bitch-"

He taunts

and like everyday she is his victim

for once I wish he would come after me

I'd show him what a woman's hand is for.

The white boy

I notice again

as his fists clench

he would kill for her

I think

in this moment

but the girl ignores it.

Pressing her lips to his harder

faster

tenderly trying to calm both men down while killing two birds with one stone.

Theirs a ring on her finger

as she presses her hand to his cheek

to feel his skin

or keep his eyes away from the mans raised finger I do not know.

I admire her for that

as women

we only know how violent men can get

when their pushed to far.

I watched as her husband

I presume

falters

and his eyes become feathers

softening to all sites now that he is against her.

The rain swells again

the fever frantic pitch of blue-gray trepidation.

It falls

over us all like nightmares

and we

the players of its turmoilly embedded script.

I see the blackness of the sun

hiding behind

this blue-gray trepidation

pridefully standing as judge and jury in my trial.

The glow of nothingness

is, like I've said all along

literature

and not the writing itself.

The lovers are again fascinating me

and the way that this woman can calm her man down

I envy that

and my own absent lover

who battles his own demons

in the face of this blue-gray trepidation

without me.