I imagined walking down the hall,
and meeting you on your way to class.
I would have asked you
how you were doing,
and attempted a conversation,
and not been afraid.
I never encountered you,
but I heard a piano playing down that hall.
Me, being obsessed with the sound of the piano,
I stopped to listen to a man
sing about being colorblind,
but accepting it.
How I shivvered and rocked myself
back and forth
to the tune.
I wanted to cry, I related so well.

Yesterday,
I drove to the place where
once we did sit,
mouthing words of our passions
and future.
You taught me to dance, there.
It's been years since I thought
about those scenes.
It's been years since we
were so close of friends.
I drove out to that park,
yesterday.
I imagined myself seeing you, too.
I imagined we both had the same regrets,
the same passions as before we did.
But the park was as empty
as I've felt for the past four years.

I took an hour to drive out to a place
way out of town,
where my friends and I used to
look for the witches.
I was feeling obviously nostalgic.
I wished I could have started over.
Maybe I'd have never become
the person you see today,
and have seen in the past
four years.
Amazing-
the place where my friends and I
decided to give up our chase
and turn around, back into town.
The street we took,
which was the same street I turned on
last night,
was your street.
All these years,
it seems we shall never
be able to hide.
 
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