I knew I
was going to
see you
before I actually
saw you
I don't know how I knew,
I just -
did.
(this has happened to me
before
but the subject
didn't believe me
"you're just drunk," he said
but I knew
that I knew
that I was going to meet him that night
and then:
I did
(and then, after a five-year hiatus
he turned up on a KFC commercial))
and then
I had the same
surge I had the night I didn't see you
and cut my hand bone-deep
on all of our
empty
wine glasses -
but it was probably also
two years'
first coffee coursing through me
and it being the week for yellow pills
and the fact that I was
rushing around
on only a croissant and a banana
gathering terrariums and
friends and
airports,
etcetera
and then suddenly
really happy
in the queue for 'Twelve Items or Fewer'
like, glad that I've arrived now
and thanks for helping me
get here
and thanks for
departing
or something along those lines
except
much less
final
perhaps, more like:
revelling in my own stories
because they are mine
like little secrets pinned up
in the crevasses of my own self
and for all who've been written into them:
thanks for making an appearance.
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