current affairs

Tuesday night spits me back into the rhythm of a city I haven't made the time to get to know. the driver and I can't find each other and I'm chasing his directions through the multi-storey carpark. when I find the car he's waiting at the spot where I first called him. apologies and we both blame the maps on our phones. back on the doorstep of the rental in a matter of minutes. no surprises in the kitchen or the letterbox. everything untouched since I left. it feels a little like a break in til the bags are emptied. catch myself slipping into the fractures in the corner of the bathroom mirror. saved by a familiar knock at the door.

the waiting room is a zoo of foreign voices and misguided glares. the receptionist can't hear me answering her questions through the plastic shield. cling to notes for reassured faith in the facts of the story so far, relayed to someone new again. sympathies and cautious promises that she can help me get to where I want to be. injections of rehearsed gratitude on the way out the door to fund her expert validation. alpacas on the television underscored by economists predicting America's collapse and the weather. spell my surname once more for the front desk.

I wait for a friend on the bench in the shadow of Saint George and the dragon at the feet of his horse. phone floods with footage of the flames of another school bombed far away enough to be forgotten with a swipe for something less confronting. another birthday and proposal. someone else's dreams. musical messiah dances for the masses on a table in the square. I've walked through that park between important paintings and the subway to a friend I miss. nostalgia heralds a welcome release from the confines of doubt. your name hangs over my fingertips and I resist while I can. have you listened yet? I want to ask what you think of the song and wonder if you'd dance along when it plays. maybe you'll be out dancing tonight. I envy every eye that gets to see you move. what bliss to want again.