went to see the new Indiana Jones
by myself in Union Square,
and then met up with the homies
on the LES.
the place was packed,
but Franco had the pool table
and Eric was in good spirits.
I suck at pool
and I don't drink,
so I just watched the people,
sung along to the familiar song
by The Airborne Toxic Event.
holding my tonic like a crutch,
sometime around midnight,
I think I see her shadows,
maybe the shape of the back
possibly like her posture.
and suddenly I remember
the first time we kissed,
somewhere not far from here in blocks
but a biblical mile in years.
I am transported back there—
I can smell the moment—
frozen in time, forever in mind.
holding my club soda like a cross,
nervously rubbing my fingers together
on the wet glass.
for a second,
I can barely stand,
and I pray it is not her,
but then I pray that it is her,
and then I prey on the past
and then I prey on the past
for one last moment.
it was not her—
this poem would've ended differently
if it were.
*tears