Capitulate

evening has
befallen
me
and you,

bristling, thicklike as
the muttering black beards
of nomads
loping slowly west,
gaunt with cold.

evening having befallen,
the air is
purple with no sound,
only your sniffling
and the chuff
of black beards
closing.

I have left you
out the walls;
this place will not burn
tonight.

the air where you stand
is purple,
and darker
than the rest.
get in your car,
please.

.