Delinquent

Spending time, flipping coins
Into gutters I don’t like.
I have slammed all my doors,
Without remembering my keys,
It’s -4, and I feel a fool.

You said there’s crime
In these streets, and I think
It may be me – kicking cans
At your bicycle in the rain.
The remains can't leave.

Is your light still on?
That’s all I want to see.
Have your finger tips forgotten
About me? I knotted myself
In so neat and tight I can’t get out

So I’m here, at your back door,
The girl you don’t want to see.
Though I sat on the curb for an hour,
Trying to leave.