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.