it's late

someone
is following
you home.
you hear his
footsteps behind
you, the clicking
of his heels
on the wet street.
you are alone.
the sky is beyond
the buildings.
somewhere there
are stars.
perhaps a moon.
you turn another
corner, then look
back at the person
who has also
stopped. you yell
out, asking what
he wants. there is
no answer.
you keep walking
going in a different
direction
until finally
you are lost.
you stop
and yell back to
the person who
is following, where
are we, you say.
your voice echoes
in the dark,
the man shrugs,
putting up his
hands. I don't know
he says, but it's
late, i'm going
home, then turns
and walks away.