Late Stroll Home

I look at your face, your eyes, your smile, your mouth and wonder if you could be the one.

In the street, as we pass by, as you stand back and smile, for me to go first, strangers never to really meet

You smile. I smile. I see your eyes sparkle. Interest.

Didn’t I have one, just like you, who used to stand about there, who called me sweet heart?

Thanks, I say.

You smile again.

I nod.

You nod.

What happened to that person, I think. Where did that person go?

Manny called and asked me if I was upset with him, as I hadn’t called him. Didn’t I get his message?

He told me how he’d been hanging out with Stuart, at Club 80, playing pool, again. But last night he had an anxiety attack, flipped out, or something and walked all the way home. He should have come to my place, but he didn’t think of me. Didn't think of me, despite being just around the corner. Must have thought I’d be at Bolago, not sure why.

Haven’t got the heart to tell him I don’t want a dumb boyfriend. I’ve already dumped him, I guess I should tell him.

I meant it when I said I wasn’t upset, but I don’t think Manny is built for such nuance. I wondered how long it will take him to realise that I have stopped ringing?

I walk home from Tim & Nicholas’s alone, half stoned, after it had got dark, late, like all the other people going home alone, after dark, in Gertrude Street.

After you, you say.

Thank you, I say.

I step around the tables and chairs, on the footpath and think how sad it is that the person who thought the most about me today, was someone I didn’t even know.

We both look back.

I smile. You smile. Nervous.

We walk away.