We are down to the the naked essentials of soup and soap, a little dietary fiber, and the memory of romantic youth. Oh, our indulgent kisses, the stuttered language of immature desire. Do you remember that? We held hands by a shapeless river and watched the leaves bump into rocks. “When we are older,” I said, “when we are older.” This would be ours, and not just the bridge and not just the warm smell of rain, but this place that was locked inside our heads, and all this stuff that weaved inside of us, the sweetness of eternal us.
And now we are older, and we are still us. But I’m not sure you’re here at all. So many years have been pulled from us.
We are down to the naked essential of this: do you remember? Do you remember us at all?