In July 2003
February 23, 2011
It became dark quickly.
Summer cold crept in through the bones,
shirts closing the access to hearts like shutters,
excitement for what was to come shining through the cracks
Five tables stood in line
Small candles flickering Morse promises
of future greatness and the perfection of the moment,
casting shadows of time on
the crayfish, cheese, bread and the paper plates,
which were ready to lose their innocence for our pleasure
You drank vodka and sat on the far side o the table.
I drank vodka and made your friends laugh (a fragile bond at best).
I tried to understand where I was
and why I could not see through the dark
while people around me
ran through thorned forests at will,
but the raised glasses confused me again and again.
Later, we shared a bed like brother and sister,
while the sounds of your friends fucking wormed through the walls.
If you had asked me then, I am not sure I would have told you truth,
or maybe even known any.
Even later, it turned out that truth,
your truth, was a thin kind of ice and I went through.
But by then we were no longer speaking.