You said, Transit.

What I didn't mention over the phone
was after going back to sleep at 5am,
I dreamt about you,
you came over and asked if I wanted to smoke.

And I said, But Cain you left.

And you said, Yes I did.

And I asked, Why are you here?

You said, Transit.

I asked, How, where?

So it's been back and forth.
I suspect that I think about you,
more than I should.

I'm not sure if I can ever conform to those things,
not because I don't want to,
because I always thought you were
too
too, too

special

to shelf into one of those
byproducts of
human emotions.

I could never do that to you