August 3, 2015

I'm Leaving On Monday

The bar lined the Limmat,
Not too far from the park,
Where heroin addicts spent most of the 1980's.

I put up with the smoke,
Or smog,
Whatever it was,
For close to three hours.

Then I made my way across the bridge.

Do you really like to dance in that stuff?

I wasn't used to a small city,
Just yet.

I found myself longing for the late-night eateries of New York.

The bar was closing as I walked in,
And three people started to speak German.

"I'm looking for food."

You laughed,

Opening a pizza box on the bar.

One smiled,
The other man gave me a weird look,
And the bartender seemed annoyed and tired.

"You can have one of mine, if you want."

I ate while you talked,
And you told me that you'd be back on Wednesday.

"I'll see you later. Thanks for the food."

"I used to live in Oregon. Outside Portland."

"He's trying to close, no?"

"How long are you here again?"

I was leaving a few days before Wednesday,
On a Monday.