You were in the news this morning. Or so said an industry news feed alert. I didn’t read the article.
You were also in my last dream this morning. With the changes at work, I’ve been thinking about you, and how the place is not the same any more. Are the places ever the same?
Was that your first time walking into my dreams? We ran into each other on campgrounds of sorts. You made a comment about my hair, noticing, teasing. We hugged and then walked side by side for a while.
You were much taller than you were when we walked some 40 Manhattan blocks side by side, one evening last year. Unlike then, my shoulders fit under your arm around them. Then, there were no arms around shoulders to begin with. Ann said once that you appeared taller than you actually were. She is funny like that, “funny because it’s true” kind of funny.
Not like that matters.
You acknowledged the letter I wrote to you, unlike ever, and the feeling behind it. “It is mutual,” I offered. “I suppose,” you said. That’s all. That’s all that would have mattered. Then I woke up. Then you were in the news in the article I won’t read. Then I wrote a letter you won’t read.