Only of You

Take me somewhere that I've always wanted to go.
Take me to a place that people don't worry about rocks in the relationship.
Take me underneath this crazy world of ours.

I'm sitting in Paris, I'm sitting in Rome, I'm sitting in a wedding in Beijing.
I'm laying in a hotel on the outskirts of town, I'm sleeping on beds I never knew existed, I'm dying on roofs of buildings that no one cares about.

In Paris, I'm sitting across from an empty white chair.
Tea for one?
The birds are chirping without care for the world. The stereotypical accordion music is playing from the inside of the restaurant. There's something about eating a small meal and having drinks on the stoned pathway outside. Not the convenience so much as the casualness. There are no coasters, no overlapping conversations, no passing waiters trying to get by the tightly arranged tables.

I'm so alone in this part of this world, yet part of something bigger. I don't know the language, but I know the people.
They're talking with each other in French or whatever language they happen to know.
Children are learning to count and the basics of getting by. Their biggest concern is trying to climb the steps.

I want to put my head down but I can't.

My watch is still off from timezones. I don't change it, I just account for the missed hours.

This is the best time for thinking. Being submerged in a strange new world makes the mind wander. Being far away makes the mind miss the comfort of home and love the new adventure.

I might stay here a while.

I need to see someone that hasn't cropped up in a while.
I need to find the picture of a long lost friend and see if his number still works.
I need to run into an old girlfriend and see how they've been doing.

Where did they go?
How did they get there?
What are they doing now?
What's the current 411?
So what happened to the 90s?
Did you change your number? Is it still the same like we promised each other?

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the package that came earlier for me.
It was a small box with a letter attached.

I didn't look at the address because mail fascinates me. Despite the current technology available, nothing beats the excitement of seeing the red flag of the mail box standing up. Getting a package was a sure orgasm.

Now I had in my hand a letter and a box.

Return address: Smudged to the point where a kindergarten teacher couldn't make out the details.
Stamp: Multiple images of hearts, flowers, and a copyright notice in very small print.
Before even reading anything else I knew who the letter was from. I didn't expect a letter to make it here. Only my boss and I knew I was here. Why did the a's have to look like fallen balloons and the g's like crop circles? I thought she would have lost interest in me by now.

I didn't expect her to forget, but I didn't expect it this soon.

I uncrossed my legs and let the needle feeling make it up my foot.

All the letter said was, "I got bored (:".

I opened the box and it was stuffed with newspaper. The funnies from the week before.

Even the public couldn't ignore my delight.

A hour of her life twisted into bits of string made up the bracelet buried among the packaging.

Too bad I didn't need it.

I raised my arm and my sleeve fell down to reveal the worn out purple, green, pink, and gray-that-was-once-white from a decade ago.

I left a ten dollar tip and walked down three blocks.

I need a marijuana leaf, an eyeball, and I think I'll buy a beret.