That Whole Dream You Never Moved
You sat in the crowded pizzeria, in that oven-baked warmth, all alone at a booth with your furry hat on, eyes locked on your phone screen, like they always are. You didn’t move. But I, I found you immediately and all the television screens in the place showed my face, blushing in surprise and rage.
What do I do? I thought, pacing the orange tiled floors. I spun. I took off my coat. I straightened my shirt. You didn’t move.
That whole dream you never moved. I talked so loudly, waiting for you to recognize my voice. Your eyes were hidden below your hat. Your fingers didn’t even move to press keys or swipe or pinch or sway, like always.
What do I have to do? I always say.