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I Wonder About The Cicada That You See

i know that this morning
you walk on the park
on a sunny day and it
is, of course, hot

and then you see this cicada
and i wonder if it is
singing
or grumbling
on this very hot sunny day by the park

i wonder if the cicada stares
at you
i wonder if you talk to the cicada
i wonder if
something happens that you
cannot just forget
about the cicada

i wonder if everything is unfinished
images half-printed
i wonder if at all, to whatever we see and feel and
talk about i wonder if
there must be conclusions
i wonder if
we must limit only to our own observations
leave it that way
like a bat hanging on the wall
and then

just that, whether if flies away or drops dead
you say

i do not honestly know and
i have really nothing to say

i like it with you,

something unfinished, and perhaps that is the beauty in you
this suspended suspense
suspenseful till nowhere

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