89. Food park short stories

I go out at times

and drive through the places

we once passed 

side by side

with our hands

holding tight

the same trees

that once witnessed

my enchanted face

fixated on yours

now wonder 

where that beauty has gone

I just nod them 

and they understand

you could come to me

on one of those summer nights

while I'm sitting on a patio

under a web of lightbulbs

and emerge from

the sea of faces

and murmurs

as I see your silhouette

through my frosted glass

eclipsing everything else

with your charm

you could come 

on your almost floating pace

and give me that magical smile

just as you get halfway 

to my table

I think I heard

a mellow melody 

on Billie Holiday's voice

in the background

and as you get closer

the brass is getting ready

for the climax

the trumpeter is moisting

his lips

as he takes a deep breath

I sense it 

with a soft breeze

I take a big gulp

of a locally brewed IPA

to get ready

but when I put down 

the glass

you're gone

I guess

that breeze

was you

caressing me

and telling me

you can't stay

88. A case of a winter Monday

 if I ever see you again

finally ending up face to face

on a busy street intersection 

with our signal lights to opposite sides

or in a crowded bakery shop

when you have embraced back carbs

you may think I'd probably jump to you

with my arms around you 

but most likely

you'd catch me still figuring out

what to do

what to say

how to act

just like now

until you're gone

I'd probably just freeze

and come back home

to sit and write this stuff

as I daydream about

having you back in my arms

and kiss you until

we forget about time

there's so little I can do

to change things, I know

it's still raining in Osaka

and the anime hologram is still 

looping on LoFi over my desk

countless are the times

I have found myself

starring at a blank point on my wall

looking at your flawless image in my mind

on days like these

my chest is overflowing with you

but still can't seem to get enough

I'm locked in the infinite outside world

hoping to one day become free

and home into you

I dress a smile and some old blue jeans

in case I ever find you again

and if I do

even inside this shocked

bag of bones in which 

I carry myself around

you'd know

with only one glance

what I've holding

all these years

if I ever see you again