San Francisco

It was simple.
I’ll pack my bags. Head over to your city.
You’ll meet me at the airport. Then we’ll grab lunch
or dinner. You’ll show me around for a bit,
and then that’s it. No big deal. We both know
you’ve got somewhere to be, and I eventually need
to come home.

So I arrive. You weren’t there
yet. Said you have been misinformed by a friend,
told you that you didn’t have to rush, that you’ll
make it on time. Now we know you should have left
your apartment earlier. Anyway,

You arrive eventually. We have lunch,
but before that we dropped my bags off my hotel,
considered for a moment whether we should
take the hop on-hop off bus to see the city.
You ask me what my plans are. I tell you that
I’ve got none, except to tour the city. It seemed
you were expecting a detailed itinerary. I had three days.
I’ll figure it out.

I’ve made a list of places I want to go to. I just don’t know
when I’ll go. Sometimes you have to let life happen. So
I guess that’s what happened. We rode the cable car, because
it was the best way to get a taste of the city. You know, just like
the movies. At some point, we didn’t know where we were. We’re
lost, but having fun, like you said. Then we were at this mirror maze,
where we ran after ourselves, then after each other, laughing
because we’ve been fooled by our own reflection. We also took pictures
of our silhouettes. Tried to make art out of them. After that, there was a lot
of walking and talking and laughing, and more walking, and laughing.

Dinner — I don’t remember dinner. I just remember meeting your friends
at a bar, and holding your hand. Or should I say your hand holding mine?
That was one debate we never really settled. The point is, someone initiated,
and someone went along with it. We’re back at my hotel. I didn’t
notice the city lights twinkling until you said: Come here. Look at the view.
And then this,
And this,
And this,
And that, and then a little more –
It was morning.

You tell me you’re not sure,
but you’d like to stick around. I’d like that, I said.
(You sticking around, not the part where you’re uncertain.)
You put your arms around me anyway, and I let you. We take
the bus to a nearby city, and watch the sunset at the marina.
Just before it got too dark, we head to your friend’s birthday
party, where despite the number of people in the room, we end up
being the only ones sitting by the bar. I tell you to go
mingle with your friends, or to find someone to flirt with, but you
chose to stay with me and my cranberry vodka. Perhaps it was
the alcohol, or maybe it was just an excuse (well isn’t it
always the excuse?) but at some point I remember playing
a game of truth or dare, and some kissing – which I liked
and never questioned. I was ready for the dare,
but the truth? No one’s ever ready for the truth.

And then,
we go to your apartment. In your bedroom,
we pushed your newly washed clothes aside.
You’re not sleeping in your hotel tonight,
you whisper to me in between kisses.

And then this,
And this,
And this,
And that, and then –
It’s morning. I want you
to be mine, all mine, only mine.
(All yours. I want to be all yours.)

You prepare our breakfast – oatmeal, and hot chocolate.
It feels like we’re a couple from a movie. In the background,
a song plays: hold me close and hold me fast, the magic
spell you cast –

we’re interrupted by the realization that I need to
pack my bags soon. Water runs down the kitchen sink,
our hands holding on to dishes waiting to be cleaned.
We look out your apartment window, watching
your next door neighbors – a newly wed couple —
laugh as they clean the dishes. For a moment,
it seemed like that could have been us, but no one
dared to say a thing. Instead, we share a kiss,
because nothing can ever mean more
than a kiss.

—

Author’s note: This has been in my drafts for so long, I almost forgot about it. It has been years since I started writing this piece. Today, I felt that this needed to have an ending already, and so here it is. Feel free to share your favorite line from the poem. I’d love to hear from you, dear readers.