A city has expectations

Unspoken morning rules that

mix in with the slight swirling smoke

From the construction workers coffee cups

That work their way in between the cars and the jaywalking commuters darting across on their spindly legs bags tucked at their sides like wings

In a metropolis of people

The buses learn to expect

The baby stroller parades and the old man with a cane and a loss in his eyes

His mutterings blend in with the bus' hum

As change clatters for a fare

thank god for nice bus drivers
for window on trains
for sun-dappled benches
for rivers
for rain

for the way your voice
sounds when you
whisper
my name
and the way i glance back
with my pupils
aflame

disconnected afternoon sun

lying on the grass
my toes are in the sun
your words buzz in my ears
and i think of everything
removed from itself

i remove myself from my skin
i think of the future without
all of the shackles
the chains i cherish
it seems lighter

i rush out to catch a leaf
as you twitter in my ear constantly
(and i see your slight annoyance
but it is the sun i am enjoying
more than your company)

friendships are hard
they are malleable
and fickle
and so often one-sided

when i look up at you
i try to impart meaning in my eyes
but you just curve your back
(dark curls cascading on white skin)
look past me
and laugh

watching
the slight breath
almost imperceptible
movement

and yet
i perceive

the soft     e
             s    
         i
      r

and

  fa
     l
       l

of your back

i cannot see your closed eyelids
and i wait for the shudders
to begin
the jolting indications
that tentatively disturb the stillness
and indicate
your
drift away from
me

to sleep