I have exhausted my last avenue.
My feet grow numb, my stances sway.
Dwindled moonlight filters through
My fist, and all my faces
Fall.
My final notes of birdsong leak away.
I am out of tunes.
I am out of places.

All is quiet here -- and dark.
A neon strip across the square
Informs the mirror on my
Wall
That I am neither here nor there.
I'm out of sight and out of mind.
I tear my baggage check in two
And draw the blind.