On windy nights
it always feels like
someone’s coming
or someone’s going

it doesn’t matter where
you are, or who you’re
with—and if you’re alone,
it’s even better:
that shudder, that chill—
you’re alive now, baby
and nothing’s holding you back!
that, except you: yourself!

yet, it beckons:

“come here, my child—
only you and I, you and I”

and do you listen?
do you follow?

of course you do…

how else did you wind up here?