Straight-Shot

No matter how many times I glace at my watch, it seems set on midnight. Once, I could even swear it rolled back to eleven fifty-four just so I could relive the pain. He is late, the numbers scream. He is late, as you knew he would be all along.

I keep walking. Up and down, up and down this two-way street. There are too many cars out tonight, as if God takes joy in crushing my heart again and again. With every sweep of headlights, I hesitate…. maybe if they're going fast enough they won't even see me slip under the car. But cowardice wins out time after time and I edge once more into the grass and watch the car pass.

It's not him. None of them were. I can't imagine what I am still doing here… waiting for him to drive by and stop. But no one does, and my eyes grow tired of bright lights and these late nights spent on the side of the road waiting for this boy who is so lost he probably can't find me anyway.

And by the time I realize he's left me again, it's too late to turn around home. One more car... or.. maybe this time I will stand still.