why do you disappear

i had done it once again.

a vague memory of buying another 12-pack at the publix by phillips park. no memory of what the note said.

no memory of even leaving the note until some time later on saturday, useless in bed, watching the high clouds drift by. suddenly the memory of scrawling it out whilst sitting at a bus stop.

and now here i had found what could only have been a rough draft of the note i left. it was addressed to her, it was from the same pen in my jacket pocket.

the time it does go away with the speed of foolishness

i diverged from our plan due mostly to the sycophancy of footmen

suburban station: america's jungle

i trust you are well. please respond

this didn't even sound like me.

i remembered when miami held a promise to us.

now miami was an endless sprawl of pastel and stucco mediocrity.

every new towering crane mocked my failure.

every oppressive evening put sweat on my cheeks when i was too proud to cry.

staring at the cruise liners sat staunchly in the port. remembering the afternoon we moved the furniture in, before the electricity had been turned on.

later i took her to a small cafe with a backyard ringed in tall bamboo.

we sat under a cloudless evening sky as planes descended overhead.

certain we'd found our shangri-la.

her smile lit softly from above like a painting at the end of a dim museum hallway.

and me sitting there, entranced with everything.

the clinking of flatware suddenly distant.