It's half past nine
and I just missed the
space of time
that little window box
to let me in and
get those black black boots.

I know that tomorrow morning
those black black boots
won't be there for me
because it's half past nine
now
and it won't be the same
half past nine tomorrow.

Thirty five minutes past nine
and I'm still staring at those
black black boots.

Blackety black black.

Clickety clack clack down the
railroad tracks I go.

Go.

Go.

Go.