Last day of the world (For Lala & Bugsy)

“And in her eyes you see nothing…”
The Beatles

In what he thought was the last day
of the seasons of the world
in his heart,
it was raining the whole time & far into the night
but the sight of her a week ago had left him wondering:
no, it wasn’t that he was drowning in the sea of ions in the air
that left him depressed
but the cafe where he saw them – she of the sun rising over the hills
& he of the moon limning the fjord – seemed to be the right place
for seeing her for the last time on the last day
of all the seasons in the world, although that space
had stayed the same all the time he would be there
waiting at a table & drumming his fingers on the glass:
he had come minutes late, & they had been waiting,
waiting, waiting patiently.
& she to stop the clock perhaps, the endless ticking of the
clock had looked over the menu, ordering some snack,
meaning nothing at all, because
she was always, as she had always been, fidgeting with her phone
& keeping track of conversations as well,
as if she were wired interminably to the world…
Ennui would pass over her face like a shadow,
& hooking her bag up she would rise quickly…
& he would feel like a guy in a wheelchair, unable to stop her
because things were always like that on days that seemed
to be the last one of all the seasons of the world
in his heart.

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