Nod.
An impromptu smile.
Glance.
Look away.
I see right through your
Faint attempt to humor me,
Granting me a pseudo-audience
Within those ‘hallowed’ walls
Of your mind…

I think not.
Your naïveté concludes the dream.
The band picks up and leaves,
Meticulously putting away all that
Has emotional attachment,
They will use it another day.
Tough crowd tonight.
They pack their toys up
And they go home.