and so i've arrived
not at crossroads as i was expecting,
but at the helm
of a strange, misty, doubting
street
which leads nowhere.
people pass me by.
mothers look at me disapproving,
old women look at me with questions on their lips
young men look at me with lusting, ashamed eyes
the girls, they don't look at me.
strangers all
and making up plans
in their heads
for me.
stories with a different beginning,
stories with no climatic twist,
stories that finish with 'ever after.'
people pass me by
they don't come from where i left,
and they don't go where i turn.