stones

it made me sick to my stomach to think about it.

but i couldn't think of anything happy right away. i had to wean my mind off of it with something that still makes me sick, but is less bothersome.

so i thought about the night we were sitting on the concrete bench. it was may, and the sun was down and you were on my left side. there was a tin ashtray behind your head, and you sat like you were pensive but i know you weren't.

your hair looked messier. the car we saw was black and you asked them how much they were selling it for. they said five thousand, and the blue light inside of it kept blinking. there was a tree above and it moved a little. a taxi was parked in front of us, and an older silver car.

you were my first priority, and i went up the carpeted stairs after you. they were heather grey and my shoes were white, and i followed you in the brown door into the brown and white room.

then i thought about the other time i wore those white shoes. two other times. the first was at the apartment, after biking so far without a dinner, i wanted to see you. the second was the day i met your landlord, and asked that man for the address. it was something with a four, he wouldn't let me leave the doorway and i started to panic.

you laughed but i wished you were more protective, because i was scared. its a comfort when i am protected.

wherever we walked it was always gray or green.

we didn't walk much or even see each other much, but that was how i knew you. walking in the night, in the gray. everytime i think about it i feel those gray stones pebbling. they used to fall on me, in dark shades first then slowly light until they become white cotton balls and i fell asleep.

now i think about it and i feel them under my feet, like i am back in the room again, walking with you on a stone-paved treadmill. by now, i don't even think about tracing your face anymore. all i can look at is my feet and wait for the stones to turn white.