Rainstorm of fingers and palms
surging, dwindling—a last burst
dissembling to spits and spots as stage lights
fade and die.
Unpeopled, the set becomes
pretence and flimsy and flat,
performers are unperforming, becoming
you and I.
Arms unfurl their sleeves
fill wide as wings and fall
as a restless flock preparing to turn
rise and fly.
But I am still, lost in thought
memories flood my mind
of last time, of that time, we were here
you and I.
Every dry feather departs,
the last sweep falls quiet,
seats become velvet walls again, muffle my
final sigh.
2012 © Andie Davidson
(at a Suzanne Vega concert, Brighton 2012)
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