Is it you, then? I did not know it was so late.
but come, you cannot know one number from another
in this street, one neighbour from the next.
All are waiting for you, prayer-full or angry.
Some have had their cases packed for years,
others, and I for one, sit with empty pockets
and then in you come utterly indifferent
to what we thought we were till now.
For most of us, as the lieder said,
You are less feared than strange,
a derangement of ordinary manners.
So, how to greet you, shadow on the glass?
Let the same gesture that bows you in
take me out? But, is it you then?
I did not know it was so late.