I was running
pounding Reinprechtsdorfer Straße to your apartment
past the coffeehouse whose name I can't recall
(it begins with the letter "M")
past the shop displaying pink and white negligee

the black-blue skies circling my ankles beginning to feel like weights
I wasn't too sure if it were night or still day

'tis lack of day

light

It became sharper in a matter of seconds why I was running
I was running after you

You turned left to your apartment door
and with a crisp turn of the key
you were gone

I don't run after buses so I don't run after people
but I found myself running after you
and now here I am
consciously calling your name to the meaningless wood of a door

The intercom was one thing I never learned to conquer
like the many others
of driving
of Photoshop
of xlsx

A man was coming out of the apartment,
holding a big bag of laundry

Balancing his clothes and the heavy door,
he held it open



Vielen dank

Relief swam over me

Willkommen, he replied as he walked away

I don't speak German
Even upon T's return from Berlin
he asked me what the equivalent for welcome was

I had looked at him like he was crazy

Here I am
dreaming in German

You emerged shortly
You were unfazed
unfeeling
in an exhausted green coloured ringer shirt with a vintage print

Where are you going

You waited twenty seconds to reply
fumbling for an excuse
like searching for keys in your pocket

Going to meet Andrew, you said.

Where were you before this

You looked at me and didn't say anything
We both knew you didn't have to

at 650am in the morning