It was dark in the back seat of the car. The cold metal of the drum set was digging into my ribs, the midnight April air floating through my hair, into the hole in my jeans. He looked back at me, his eyes reflecting the glimmering strings of lights. He was smiling. The music made my eyes lower, the low and chipping buildings in the market becoming a blur. I drift into a dreamy rest, open my eyes and I’m looking into the eyes of a stranger. The city is busy, there is noise. The air feels wet and I want to reach my arm through the hole in the roof. We pass the corner I know so well, the wall I’ve leaned up against cold and drunk so many nights. I will never forget. It is not as empty as I remember now, people run across the streets and the diner is lit and the seats are taken. The sun is gone and the moon is making a curved shape in the balmy sky. There are no stars, just clouds and smog and street lights. I hear him talking but don’t lean closer to listen. He talks with his hands, he is happy.

Hours ago, we sat in the leather seats at the Back Alley. It is late at night; the People give us strange looks. Do they know something that we don’t? It doesn’t matter because we share our own secret. You sat next to me, feeding me with your other arm around my waist. Everyone disappears and it was just you and me. I felt so sad, and you didn’t know why. I told you I needed to cry, and your heart sank because you can never understand. You are frustrated. Nothing is right.

I’m so sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this, I don’t deserve you.