It is too late to recapture the first moments when laughter was less expensive and the nights along Bleeker Street were punctured by the first signs of daybreak.
Besides, most of the stores have changed now. They no longer translate to say, me amidst my wild longhaired days of confusion and you in your short skirts, fishnets, and Doc Martin steel-tip boots.
Same as we have grown, so have the avenues. same as we have aged, the streets have changed, and all the remains are the memories of St Mark’s and a diner called Stingy Lulu’s.
It seems even then, I knew I would meet you. I just didn’t know how or when.
I knew you though….
I knew you existed because I thought of you often and wondered if you thought of me.
I once wrote to you, but I never had the tongue to share it.
If I listen, I can hear you in my thoughts.
And if I look, I can see you in my dreams and behind the walls of my eyelids.
But I only hope the day comes soon
…and I can hold you in my arms forever.
This was the poem I used to describe you.
I knew who you were, but yet, I never saw your face. I knew how you would sound, but yet, I never heard your voice.
I knew how I would feel as soon as I saw you, but I wondered for too long, and I grew impatient.
I checked to see if anyone else matched my intimate descriptions of what love should be. I tried to fit and co-exist, but the outcomes were all the same.
I suppose this was because none of them were you. Deep down I knew this is why every footstep I took before this one
has led me up to this moment….here
Man in a gray suit runs behind me to catch the morning train.
I can hear the hard clapping from the heels of his brown dress shoes as he runs towards the platform,
and waits for the train, which is already late.
His light blue tie swings in the wind and crosses over his left shoulder. Quickly, but almost awkward, he plods along with briefcase in hand, and an intense expression on his face.
But of course, I reached the platform steps before him, and now, the man in the gray suit is forced to walk the steps at my speed….
I can hear him breathing behind me. I can feel his frustration (and in some way) I can relate to it.
But Still….I keep my pace.
I feel I’ve run enough though.
I see no point in running just to hurry up and wait.
I have learned this the hard way:
You cannot force the world to turn quicker than it does
You cannot reverse the spiral
and you cannot make something happen if it is not meant to be.
Even fate has its way making us stop
I am wondering how the waves break on a special beach,
which I’ve only seen once.
Yet still, I imagine because it gets me through the day.
I imagine because the term dream has always been infinite to me.
And so have you.
So while rain pours over my town, I reminisce and wish I could somehow regain the yesterday
when you and I sat through the Ft. Lauderdale sunrise and laughed about the hotel room we just destroyed.
I felt something that morning. I felt energy and life combined in your silhouette, which changed as the candles burned to their end.
I felt my perception of life change into what life should be…
And that was a good thing.
Being looked at is not the same thing as being noticed.
Because if I only look, then I may just see glimpses of pieces of you.
I might only see the obvious or become gripped by your exterior.
But if I notice, then I will have seen everything.
If I notice, then I will know why you smile when we pass the city bridges.
I’ll know why the autumn brings back memories of your childhood
and that when the snow comes,
I’ll know you love how the full moon seems to brighten the ground