Last night, a homeless man
slept on me, curled—
or was it a ghost?

Most days, I’m tired of waiting,
waiting, waiting
for the show to begin.

There was never a more quiet,
patient audience than us.

Then the curtain rises
and countless characters pass by,
each one the star of their own play.

And we are characters, too:
the deaf-mute and the dumb
in the city’s epic novel.