schizophrenic

alleys filled with that smell of spring - early blossom is on the ground after a light evening rain. occasionally, a car or two pass by. in the soft lights of chicagos evening color, i recognize church, gardens, and porches, briefly check what people do behind their bedroom window.

popcorn? he asks. then he looks up a movie, touches my legs. i have a bottle of wine in my purse, but i dont wanna mention. plenty things to rediscover, damn the wine.

i feel like he is my first love, not able to look straight into his eyes, my confidence is long gone, nothing i know or have done matters anymore. yes, feels like the first love. the first lover.

we share a pillow and a blanket, but dream separately. i cant tell what the reality is anymore.

come and go

we met in a restaurant. friends of a friend. four girls, four boys, all different parts of the world. we stayed till they closed, moved from bar to bar, paying for shots, singing, dancing wherever it was possible. he took care of me: kept the conversation, protected me from boys, walked me to the car. and kissed a good bye. 

first date goes well, second does too. 

then i find out he is getting married.