2001-11-14 - 2:28 p.m.
I had the dream again.
The one in which I returned to the old flat.
Your Vespa parked in its usual spot,
The 5th floor guy washing his Renault.
You were waiting for the elevator,
I refused to get in.
She was forcing me to budge,
Pulling me by the elbow.
I pleaded, reasoned, remained unreasonable.
You saw the struggle and laughed.
It was more like a smirk,
Your Lennon-esque condescension.
I felt the pain even in the dream.
The drastic intensity of your affect always belittled mine.
I have been rehearsing the lines,
In anticipation of the what-if.
Should chance play a sick prank,
I will be equipped with my killer lines.
Why is it that you pervade my moments?
Incognito, you permeate through things I see, people I meet, films I watch.
You were flipping through the vinyls as I was buying CDs.
The guy I smoked with in the ghastly wind- his jeans were yours.
Rid me of these traces, these meaningless associations.
Grant the closure, execute it with more conviction this time.
Lest we forget.
