[We meet again] in an empty book shop. No, in a field of violets. At a farmer’s market down south when the heat has broken like an eggshell. Your hair is longer. Shorter. Dyed bright purple. Still the same. We meet again by chance at a New York City bus stop. You have exact change. I wink at the driver. We meet again in February when the snow is so tired of itself it melts into the pavements like a slow yawn. We meet again at a poetry club in the heart of some small town in England. You sip at a beer. Keep your legs crossed. Find my eyes in the corner, two pinpricks in the distance. Fairy lights around a fireplace. We meet again after the in-between years. We’re older. You look it. I hear your voice over the intercom in a railroad station. I catch your scent in the aisle of a supermarket. We meet again at the feet of the Eiffel Tower. Neither of us impressed. No, both of us swollen with awe. Your camera frames me before you even notice. We meet again in the middle of the ocean. No, under a bridge in Mexico. No, in the shadow of a skyscraper. Under the scope of a comet. At the edge of the universe. Before the end of the world. We meet again at a party. Leave together. Make love until we turn to salt. Until we are nothing but steam rising in a windowless room. Until we remember what tore us apart to begin with. We meet again at the brink of a climax. No, at the root of a toothache. In the hollows of your collarbone. At the height of our loneliness.
We meet again, originally from the ‘no posts yet’ five--a--day
