Crickets chirp as they rub their legs together; the music of the night.

The rolling paper burns, as I inhale my cigarette. 

Catching fire so easily.

My heart beat racing faster with every minute that's ticking by.

Every minute waiting for your call. 

Craving your attention. 

Vehicles pass by the empty parking lot I sit. 

Moonlight reflecting off the paint.

Headlights blinding me, but I can’t stop staring - 

Hoping one of them is you, that one of them will turn in. 

Instead they drive by, without hesitation, without even noticing. 

So desperate to get to their own destinations.

Still I sit here, as the minutes get longer, and the night grows darker.

Waiting for the impossible to happen. 

Waiting for you. 

But, all that happens is my rolling paper, again, catches fire. 

- R. Short