This is a stream of consciousness I wrote in 2019.
Wake me, wake up, on the side of my bathtub
I was sweating in the water and the candle had burnt out
Droplets from the faucet slowly kept time
I remembered one night we spent together
The wind was tugging at the metal blinds
Your ear was pressed against me
Listening for my heartbeat
I had a feeling that I had seen us there in a dream
Once if not many times before
The same car horn bouncing off buildings
The same cavernous, hollow feeling
That there’s an unseen force that barrels
Down the streets when people go inside
I stood up
The water, like static fabric, stuck to my skin
And raced back to the tub
Lightheaded, I stepped to the rug
And drank a whole glass of water
It tasted like the water from your tap
Got me thinking about being in your apartment
So I drafted a text
The whole day went by
I never pressed send
I went home
And I deleted
All the photos of you
I’ve taken
Cause the older I get (figuratively lengthen the belt)
The more I want to live on what survives naturally
Then I remembered one night
Your kitchen light
Made us look so tall
As it cast our shadows on the wall
If shadows could talk
Our wouldn’t have said anything at all
They’d just wave their 4 hands in between holding each other calm
I deleted all the photos that I took that night
I like to question if I dreamed you or it really happened
Isn’t it funny how New Yorkers complain
How much their so-called beloved city has changed
It’s not what it used to be
While she slithers and whispers “that’s the point”
It was late morning
You were back in bed
It had four posters
You sung to it’s ebony ends
It occurred to me while
Waiting for a train
Biding the station air
Watching old men in berets
I wished not to move on
As if to stay there with you
As if I could not cash in a day and tread time there with you
Treading Time there with you
Clever how you gave me
The same patience that New York does
And the same hollow feeling
There’s something good worth my waiting