Feeling the Way

No one around, the corridor long and dark.

Who turned the lights off?

As we walk to the corner

our shoulders nearly touch.

Like a Gypsy with her crystal ball

I once read thoughts in others’ eyes.

But yours were thick as last night’s wine

and layered in dark clouds.

As if a car passed,

something lights

this briefly awkward moment

amid the pressing dark.

I always wanted to be a black cat

crouched in a corner, gazing coldly on the world,

so see you now, spotlit

like a statue in bronze, self-sculpted,

while I meld with night.

You walk ahead, giving off

the fragrance of a male.

Blindfolded, I stretch my hand

into the air of endlessly extending space,

the only thing between us.

Somewhere a car growls by,

and then this silence

more fatal than a whisper.

The lights still out,

I cannot find the switch.

Is the exit far ahead?

Our toes feel for the edges of the stairs.