Tortured

Already it was dark when we met. The end of the week. A month since I felt home. What they meant. These details. Escaped us.

I can’t see how they could mean. And yet I, absolutely, don’t know. But think this, also, was the way you thought. Even though we never once spoke. About that.

I have a feeling it wasn’t all so important. Watching you move through vision. Standing with my back blocking light. Already it was dark when we met. Separately friends said we should go home, just not together. But I had a feeling they didn’t know time. Or how much we needed. Also, they weren’t my friends because never did they try to know me.

It was the end of the week and I was ready to go home. But even though nobody noticed, it had been a month and I hadn’t been there. Moving through vision, my eyes kept you close. Since closeness and closure are certain ways I like to have it.

Inside where we were. Down below. Walled in seduction. A sort of cave, you could call it. Many open rooms. Faces kissing. People without their mouths. Walking. Moving. Following you there, then and around. My back blocking light. Friends talking over talking, talking about times. Details that should have been forgotten by now.

Someone was doing something with music. To torture me. And I’m dancing. Trying to get high. Higher off ground. Away from where all these people like to be. I’m dancing. Doing someone. Tortured. Something with music. You’re dancing. Moving me all around. I’m waving. Not to you, to who I said are not my friends. Telling them I’m leaving, not staying down, going up, getting away from what is being done to me. I can’t dance with this music. This isn’t how I am. Not the way I want to be. And I’d really like if I could find someone. Anyone who will get me home. But it’s a month till I’ll be there and a month since I’ve been. Gone. So I’ll get him, yeah you. And we’ll wait. But it's not as if I don't not like to never not be alone.

“Hey you, yeah you, you’re the one. Take me.” “Tonight? Where? Where do you see us going?” “Some place. We won’t need light.”

And it’s good because he hasn’t any. I’m following. Following you there, then, to a place I’m still settling in. Zippering down with my back blocking light. The light you don't have. It’s as I said. These details, they escape us. We don’t need them. To mean anything. Hey him, yeah you, he's the one. I’m staying and I’ll be gone once I go. But we have many hours and I don’t need my eyes till then.

But we never once spoke either. About what that. What it. What, what? What we meant.