All the lights of the city would be shining. The pink sky of the late afternoon would fade to the blue of dusk. It would be autumn with red, gold and brown leaves everywhere. They would have made their journey, probable and right, unlike the places we went.
I will wonder where you might be and where you're going to. Again, I´ll be going nowhere, but now I will realize drugs will not literally take me to some other place. Like the leaves at my feet, bunched together, you know, I don't want to travel alone. Going home again, I'll turn a corner, resigned to another evening in front of the television. I will think if you were here, we could order a pizza and listen to music and tell each other a few jokes, have some wine and laugh, then get serious. Then I would tell you just how much of a fool I have been. We would kiss and make love without undressing. Then we'd go to bed and hold each other so close neither of us could make plans to try to live alone. These are the simple things I never allowed you to think me capable of wanting.
I will climb the steps and remember the woman I disturbed by speaking my thoughts aloud, and her disapproving look. Perhaps she didn't feel I was crazy, but was only reminding me it doesn't do to dream. Perhaps she knew I was high, or thought I was a lost soul. If so, she had that right.
Putting the key in the lock, I will hear a familiar sound behind me causing me to turn, and I won't believe what I'm looking at. It will be you, standing on the lowest step, and when I start to say a word of welcome, you will put one finger to your lips.
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