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Leaves | Nov 21 2003

I come to the door, late, and the door is locked. I knock but no one comes. I will miss all. I laugh at this. To have come so far, six and half hours on a bus, and not see you. I laugh and laugh. Oh, how I laugh. Still, how long can one laugh? I leave to find the time. There is a half hour left to the play. Through the door I can see the door that leads to where I could see you. I try to hear through the door but can’t. I leave once more and walk. There is a place to buy food. The food comes in a box. I wait by the door and eat it. Leaves fall on me. The food is bad. All I can think of is you and how bad the food is. A man walks up and in a flash I know him. He looks just as you said he did. The same man. The one you live with and love. Though not for long now. He walks past and I watch him. He looks at things and does not leave. He is here to meet you. This time I don’t laugh. I cross the street and sit on a bench in a kind of park. From here I can see the door. I watch the door. My plan is to watch the man greet you. I hope I’m wrong, I hope the man is not who I think he is but a man who looks like him. I will know for sure if he greets you and you walk with him. But where is he? Much time goes past. It feels like too much time, it feels like you should have come out by now. I keep my eyes on the door. Zilch. At last I cross the street to the door. I have the thought to go to the door itself and peer in. The man I don’t see. Ah, now I do! He sits by a tree! As I see him, I turn and head down the street. Back to the park I go, where I wait in the same place. Where are you? Is my sense of time all screwed? Have I fucked up in some way I can’t think of? If so, the man has fucked up as well. Then at last he stands—I see his head come up—and off he strides. What is this now? I watch for two blocks and he is gone. All so strange. I cross the street for the last time, try the door, ring bells. Zilch and more zilch. I find out the time. It is a half hour past the time you should have come out. I hold my ear to the door and try to hear the play. I think to go but do not. A short time more, I think. Then that time too is gone. Was there a door in back you left from? That is all I can think. At last I leave. Half way down the block, you walk my way with two friends. Now all thought is gone. It is you. You don’t see me. You speak with your friends and walk. I come to you and touch your arm. What do I say? Not a word. Like that, your friends are gone. They are there but gone, poof.

What is the rest? You know the rest. The play had not gone on, for so few had come. You drank at a bar one block down with friends. The man had meant to join you, but the plans had gone wrong. He sat by the door, by a tree, and got mad. You held me hard and pushed me to the wall.