In the supermarket: Apples

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To Someone

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The architecture of the city is plural and restless. Your voice comes and goes. The sky was pale blue today. White here and there. Clouds. Whispers.  Our dialog is more vivid now. I still see how intense your eyes are. You come and go from me. But I know you never really leave. At least, that is the illusion that keeps me - going? I see patterns. They make sense. Like you made sense a while ago. I can't reason with Love, can I? Love, this palpable, irrational measurement of attachment and desire.  I don't know if you are the same anymore. The same I knew.  Did I ever know you? It doesn't matter because you fit like a symptom fits a disease. You fit my fantasy. My fantasy was so concrete and so tangible. I play us in my head. If I had. If you had. But history doesn't rewrite itself.  I can't walk down the street to try and find you.   Unchanged sea. Under the same sheltering sky. I love you.
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When music hits my soul. Inevitably. You are here with me and a tear drops. I'm not sure what happened to the walls. The wind is blowing and my face burns. I read your words. Your riddles. I went silent. Shocked perhaps by the audacity. It was a surprise.  I have my own riddles.  This.  I have known this song for more than thirty years. It always touched me. Now I know why. Now that I understand the words. It makes sense. Imagine not having that love anymore.  I have sounds to keep me company, like this one  and this one . Pay close attention to the words.  It seems like we always run in circles, doesn't it?  And no, I don't want to drop you a note. Have you become single recently? Are you in town? Are you going to give me an ultimatum like the last time?  Things have changed. I am tired. I am exhausted. I have no energy for games. Never have, but now. Now things are different. Time does weigh into the equation. Now that runs so deep. I do carry y...
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