What If The Steak Was Shaped Like A Cow?

Just to refresh your memory:

I hadn't talked to you in nine years
and I was with my friend drinking one night
and we text messaged you
and you blew it off, (you tend to do that)
and that was okay,
I sent you an IM a couple of days later
and we started chatting, at our desks
four hundred miles apart with the world
going on around us,
sneaking a conversation into the margins of our day
over a technology that will probably be obsolete
by the time these words see the light of day,
but the technology is unimportant,
none of it is really, I bring it up only to remind you

That it was early on a Friday and I invited you out
for a drink for happy hour and you pointed out
that I was four hundred miles away and I asked
how soon you could get to an airport
and we worked through our day and I bought you
a plane ticket, and five hours later I was waiting
downstairs for you at baggage claim wondering
whether we'd even recognize each other,
and you had a couple of mojitos at a Cuban place
close to the airport, you sat against the wall and
I looked at your hair in the candlelight, your flight
home leaving in an hour,
you wanted me to kiss you when I dropped you off
at the airport, but that too is unimportant,

And so is the next time I saw you, three weeks later,
when we went back to my house and I opened the door
and wheeled your bag in, sitting on the edge of my couch
and you leaned against me and I kissed you, the door still
open, your purse still crooked in your elbow
the sun setting outside, and suddenly gone and us still on the
couch kissing, and hours later still on the couch and the light
of the rising full moon through the window and in your hair
as I looked at you and leaned up at you to kiss you kiss you again

None of it important probably.

The important things were maybe the things we knew that we
hadn't told each other yet, the things we didn't tell each other
the next time we saw each other a month later either, which turned out
to be the last time we saw each other for a couple of years, the things
that were scarring us

But then again, maybe not.

I'm not the person to judge these things, I live my life inside small containers,
a pack of cigarettes, a bottle of beer, my skull,
but I know this, I know it:

However far apart life takes us, that happened, it was real,
and we were alive.