Outdoor Café; Midsummer Day’s Dreams. Barefoot. Relaxed. Warming my toes in the sun when He asked for the time.

"Really? I thought it was earlier" He said, "I guess it is because every day is the same."

"Every day is different if you pay attention,” I said.

We talked about religion. Faith. Horoscopes. Whether it was more effective to believe in God or being a Libra. When we ran out of things to say, He told me He was getting married soon.

Different day; Same Place.

"I have seen you seven times but you’ve ignored me,” He said.

Seven sightings. Passing on the street. In the same room. Within His field of view seven times. Words do not come easily and eye contact is impossible when scared of reckless thoughts becoming transparent. Reality is the ring on His finger.

"I did not have anything to say"

But it doesn't matter now…

8th sighting by His count: In front of the pub with faces painted on the windows. Drunk. Stumbling. Stumblina. Laughing at state of intoxication. Don’t want to go home. Don’t want to be alone. Wandering without direction when He found me. Wedding is off. He needs a friend. Needs someone to rub wounds with.

"Take my hand and don't let go"

Cab ride. Loud club. Dancing. Crashing Bodies. Getting so close as though to pass through clothes. Through flesh. Mingling souls on a smoky, dark rooftop.

"Breathe in the night"

Feel the night rushing through me. Bass in my throat. The drinks in my head. Him in my stomach. Face feels numb when his lips brush up against mine. Like a whisper.

"May I hold your hand?" He said, "this is the first of one thousand walks for us"

Seven sightings and nine hundred and ninety nine more walks. But it doesn’t matter now…

He picked a flower for me.

"It is called an impatient,” I said.

The flower and I have a lot in common.

But it doesn't matter now…

He walked me home. Tucked me in, kissed my cheek. Wait for the damage to wear off. Spinning. Alcohol. The night. The situation.

"Now dream!" he said.

Eyes closed and I did.

6:30 AM.

Dreams so vivid prevent rest. Get up. Get out. If two trains leave at the same time heading two separate directions which one will get further away before they cross paths again?

My northbound train implodes due to internal pressure. His train went to comfort. Familiar situation; Yelling. Screaming. Justifying. Her.

Wedding back on.

5 or 6 or 7 more times is it called off again.

Maybe it’s the next week. Maybe just a few days. Lost time. I am in another’s arms, which protect me from myself in this room of bodies. The room is damp with sweat. Music. Screaming. See Him and freeze. People flying between us. His face is clear. Free myself from my protection. Defenses falling down. We approached each other through the crowd like ghosts through walls. He brushed the hair from my eyes.

"You’re beautiful" He said, "men want to control beautiful things"

His kiss stings my cheek this time. He just walked away.

Doesn’t matter now…

Days passed. Nothing changed to mark the changing of days. Routine was created from his indecision. Then time came back. I avoided him. Chose to ignore the entire drama. Had not seen Him in a while when He accuses me of selling out because I got my life together.

"If you want to live like that then fuck you,” He said, "fuck you. FUCK you. Fuck YOU. Fuck you."

And I just walked away.

Doesn't matter now…

Next night: opposing sides of the windows with the faces painted on.

He placed his hand to the window as though to reach through to me. Reach right through me.

"Ignore him,” My friend said.

Ignore him. Smoke dancing in the moonlight. Ignore him. Half of a moon is seducing a full black sky. Ignore him. Conversation with a swaying man. He placed His hand on my back.

"I’m getting married tomorrow,” he said.

"Congratulations" I said.

It sounded closed; like one word meant goodbye, good luck, and fuck you.

I watched him disappear into Saturday night.

But it doesn’t matter now…

“It’s funny how beautiful people look when they are walking out the door.” – Velvet Goldmine