I remember walking in the rain, no umbrella, with your arms around me.

How can I forget?

That was the last time I saw you, waving down a taxi.

Getting on without me, and you're sorry.

How can I forget?

That was the last time. 

 

You're sorry.

 

I remember somewhere in a dream.

A man without a face. It was you. You were quiet. 

I knew what you were thinking but you couldn't say it.

Letting go the feeling. Things ain't what they are.

Now, rain is falling, no umbrella. I remember you. 

 

You're sorry. 

 

(No Umbrella by Cynthia Alexander, Insomnia and Other Lullabyes) 

Currently listening to: Pops Club Music
Currently feeling: listless

Yesterday, I found myself in my new flat.

It's this large, sort of hexagonal, irregularly shaped room with huge windows from floor to ceiling. The room was flooded with sunlight and I could feel the breeze coming through the windows. Very good ventilation, I thought.

Oprah came to make sure that I had all the right furniture in all the right places. It was like one of their room makeovers or something. All these really tall cabinets with lots of drawers. White semi-opaque curtains. A king-sized bed with white sheets and fluffy white pillows. The floor was tiled, looked sort of Mediterranean. Beautiful.

I walked into an adjoining room, the kitchen. Oprah's gay assistant was whipping something up for merienda on the kitchen counter--beef enchilada. Yum!

I kept thanking Oprah and her assistant for making my flat such a wonderful place.

~

Suddenly, I was walking around the garden in shorts, a tank top and lavender Converse sneakers.

~

The alarm goes off. I wake up. It was all a dream.

~

Come to think of it, I never saw the bathroom. God, I want those lav sneakers!