ten minutes to midnight

can I be 

                   soft 

like the rain, 

clinging to the grass;

or the air, whose heavy 

tufts of ink

are stained by yellow

light from

lonesome

passing cars? 

can I be v-i-v-i-d

like the bite 

of frisky, chilling evening 

breeze;

or the glossy 

shining pavement 

asking

will you dare 

to dance on

me?