You came to me in a dream last night.
No longer the youthful 20 somethings, we both had aged.
You were dating a known gay comedian.
I was unhappily married.
We planned to meet for drinks.
I remembered one of our first dates.
We went to a punk bar and drank ourselves under the table.
You offered to escort me home.
Outside the bar, I expected a car.
Instead you unchained a vintage banana seat bike.
He asked me if I could pedal.
I tried my hardest.
We didn't make it two feet.
Courteously you took over and let me ride in back.
You pedaled fast and furiously.
I buried my face into your back, passing onlookers.
You smelled like cedar and cigarettes.
I wrapped my hands around your waste and noticed the glowing moon.
It was one of the first times I saw the world through someone else's eyes.
For that I am still eternally grateful.
