night hawks

I walked home with a staggered step and a hundred things on my mind as the world heaved around me. It was mild and I missed our late night walks for a second, before I worried that meant I might miss you. No one finds me at 11pm anymore, travel mug in hand, scaling our city for all it’s worth and I haven’t slept as soundly as I did then since. I lay awake, toss and turn, too many thoughts in a brain too stubborn to turn off.

So now I make lists of the things I want and the things I need. I fold them on tiny bits of paper and lose them in my pockets. I recite them like a mantra, holding onto them like love or kicks in the teeth. Skating in the winter at night in the park, learning more about trains, working on fledgling and lasting friendships, and finding all the best dumpsters. I want to be better, and more inquisitive, but mostly I want someone to walk with me, late, when the city winds down and forgets to disapprove, distracted by the drunks and the students crowded around pizza corner and pouring out of the palace.

We’ll be at the waterfront, laughing out loud.