Back in the old city with the crowded buildings seeming endlessly cold. We sat across from each other at the table. My head propped, empty glass in hand & he talked & talked & I wasn't listening to a single thing. Instead watching the way his mouth formed the words. & I asked him when he feels the most alive but he didn't know.
& then one morning I woke up to light pouring in my window, the snow was melting so that it flowed in streams from the trees, back where it came from. Winter was over & at night I would rather dream alone in my bed. The next afternoon we stretched lazily in the breeze after running as fast as we could through groups of people & counted the tawny rabbits hiding in the bushes, gathered feathers & twigs to put in neat vases back home.
The hours go forward quickly & soon we are out of our cases on display, smiling, laughing, perfect light for the perfect photo op, all legs & teeth & hair & wit & charm & bad music & secrets whispered in ears, girls screaming, eyes drilling, but he grabs my face while telling me. . .
& now I've slept long enough to stay up the next month, I've spent all my money so everything is free. Buds are sprouting through the ground. I fall, I break, I grow, I believe in something that is pulling me each & every day to some indefinite destination. Who knows when I'll arrive.
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