Kom og hent meg

You are waiting to be picked up. I do not know of what or who, but you know. From mental basements and literal attics. I see you all the time, waiting. In the City where I live, the waiting City. You can tell by the cranes. The whole world is waiting, even when it is racing, even when it is spinning around it self. Waiting for a change, a revolution, a collapse. January is waiting fro February. The Day is caught up by the Night. Words waiting fro eyes. Poems waiting to be read.