we talked about Trayvon. about the color orange. about generic brands. about logos. fluorescent lights. we prayed the way we pray. we did laundry. we touched our faces. we unraveled string. we made ravioli. we talked about NPR. we listened to NPR. we cleaned yoga mats. we wiped off tables. we wiped off sweat. our eyes overflowed. our wine glasses overflowed. we listened to reggae. we listened to jazz. we listened to Anthony Hamilton. we listened to R.Kelly. we drank sangria. we ate the fruit. we dug around the bottom of the cup to eat more fruit. we took sangria-soaked fruit to karaoke in to-go cups. ¬†we stopped saying i love you. we started saying i love you. we spoke another language. we made up a language. we sang along to otis redding. we memorized the words to the songs in Aladdin. we went barefoot in your house. we ate off of paper plates. we ate off of fancy dinnerware. we talked about the color green. we sat by the water. we sat by the buildings. we sat in your car. we sat in mine. we fogged up the windows so that we could write messages on them. we breathed out. we breathed in later. we talked about the weather. you said, “pray for me.” i studied the books on your bookshelf. you studied the books in my eyes. we ate peruvian food. we threw a football together. you let me put you on a canoe though you are scared of water. you carried me to your car when i couldn’t walk anymore. you sprayed me with water first. i dumped water on you back. you took me to the rooftop. we danced there. you said you liked the color of my skin. i laughed because i didn’t believe you. you said you liked my legs. i laughed because i did believe you then. we listened to Misuko Uchida play Schubert. we ate hash browns. you washed my hair. i touched yours. you let me sit on your white carpet. you showed me how to do a push-up. i showed you how to type fast. we met up at the park. we pretended not to know each other. we acted like we didn’t want to get on the carousel. we ate cake instead. we went go-karting. you won. you beat me at pool. i beat you at nothing. we drank margaritas. we sweat. we talked about failure. you pretended to be Batman. you almost invited me to a wedding. i almost invited you to stay. you almost told me you missed me. we almost crossed each other’s paths. we almost made ourselves cookies. you almost let me go. we were never sure of anything. we were certain of everything. we visited art museums. we listened to street musicians. we talked about the news. a year later we might have acted like we were strangers. we smiled still. we listened to the city. we almost won the race. we never began. when finally you said, “i’ll meet you in chicago,” i knew i’d never see you again.

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