The second day on the beach, he came when I was lying on my hammock. The sun on his side, I was blinded. Same glasses, same hair style, same body frame, same outfit. A German George with Gerald Depardieu’s nose.
We went on a bike to the local market then searched for the sun set on a white sand dune. There was a crack of cloud across the sky, probably trace of an airplane. And he was admiring it with his naked eyes, his senses, not his camera.
I’m glad his character is different: studying Literature, raising questions regarding which food is vegetarian, holding helmet all around just for the fear of it getting stolen. He reminds me of innocent.
And just now I heard that you’re downtown again, probably searching for somebody to occupy the night. I wonder if the cold jazz and mint cigarette are still in the back of your mind like the pieces of you and those unfinished songs I wrote do in mine. My consciense said yes but it could be a “no” as you didn’t even have the courage to stand up to me, like the image of a man you’ve always been trying to craft.
Long ago, I loved you. But also long ago, I didn’t recognize you as such person I fell for anymore.