clean

i had a dream there, on the sofa, that he walked in through the door. not what i expected, some rather non-descript asian kid in a white hanes shirt with a buzzed haircut. everyone acknowledged him with just the minimal amount of effort required to be polite and off he went down the hallway. i awoke to the white square of brightness in front of me, the sunlit blinds, a sliver of baby blue let me know the rain had finally moved on.

'there is no asian kid,' i thought, relieved. 'there's still no one.'

no, you're still an island, you haven't let anyone in. i sit in the airport and i wonder if you ever will. i see people on tv who look like you and something inside of me cringes, or contracts automatically, and though it's painless i can still feel it. i stand in the crowded awning of a restaurant as the rain pours down and someone sitting nearby has hair close to yours. close but just not it. i've never seen anyone match the shine.

it goes on like this, laying on the sofa. i can hear you laughing in your room, speaking on the telephone to someone. you always hear the descriptions of such a thing as "a stab in the heart" but it's not, at least not for me. it's more like cool water washing over your face minutes before you drown. you haven't lost control just yet, you're still trying to assess the situation. you're still oblivious.

so i sit upright and light a cigarette. i can't spend all morning listening to this. i'll go insane. i leave and walk past the cigarette butts in front of the strip club and the wet newspapers laid out in a grid where the homeless man slept the evening before, before the rains moved in and soaked everything.

there was the afternoon we sat in the back and petted that rambunctious dog, where our fingers brushed against each other's and you looked at me in that way you have, where it's like you're trying to figure something out or remember an old quote, and then it just dissolves into a smile. i remember sitting there in the nascent spring sunshine and realizing that finally i've gotten it, i've done something worthwhile, that this darkness has lifted.

i meet my friend for lunch. we sit and i chainsmoke. he asks how things are going with us and i'm not afraid to tell him it's all fucked. after our sandwiches we hike up to the hills, me out of breath and him in sunglasses. we reach the top and there it all is, spread out to the sea.

"the rain came through and cleaned all the air up," he says. i nod and i think if i try hard enough, i can see your house from here.