Street Heart :: I won't be home
We walk along Londsdale Street and I ask what would be your last meal. Hey, we’ve just met and this is crazy, but if you were to die tonight, what would you like me to get you before you go? You say a Reschs and a generous sandwich taken by a special tree. An Azalia at your parents house. I say I need to go to the bathroom. I'm on the edge of not remembering so have to write this down before I forget your name. I do not wee. But I do wash my hands. Walk back out and take a seat beside tomorrow.
Which we enter across the road playing hopscotch to music in my ears.
This tune, I think.
This tune sounds familiar.
Like, perhaps it has forever been playing in a space I was not yet ready to accept,
But I seem to arrive before I was aware of departing the thought.
Thanks for letting me know you're gay. You look at me and smile with sincerity.
(The past turning itself inside out. Years somersaulting through her hands.) I mean, thanks for informing me of something I already knew.
(Street heart, she frowns a little, I won't be coming home tonight.) I mean, I guess what I'm trying to say is welcome to your party. We've been waiting for you to arrive into yourself for some time. Take a beer. A slice of truth. An honest turn
To see your dawn