these things i'll be in a reflection

your path lit and well marked, the street
pristine if unused. if you ever wandered
it wasn’t here. the only echoes heard
emanating from the man leaning against
the only street light, the one with no
light. did you hear the saxophone
i swore it was crying in rhythm with your
steps, with your sashay

i laughed when you asked about my
circular canadian rhythm
until i realized you were
stifling a laugh too
i grabbed your hand and
pulled you to me

do you hear that
i said, and even as i
said it, i knew you were

me, sitting up late every night
listening to surf’s up on repeat and

not sleeping