Two night stand, third floor walkup
New York, the brink of autumn
I run and catch the last bus
Just in time
A penny on the sidewalk
The more that he and I talk
You Irish exit my thoughts
For the night
It’s not a love match
My shoes on his front mat
It’s not a must-have
But it’s nice
One plane ticket will be taking me home
I might miss him, but I probably won’t
He tasted like a fresh start
Like coffee and a question mark
And even if we’d passed you on the edge of Central Park
I don’t think I’d have noticed it
Does that mean that I’m over it?
Eight months of walking backwards
Rereading finished chapters
Replaying moments, captured
Funny how what I thought mattered
Fades in the darkness
Of a stranger’s apartment
Fleeting and harmless
But it’s nice
‘Cause this time tomorrow
One plane ticket will be taking me home
I might miss him, but I probably won’t
He tasted like a fresh start
Like coffee and a question mark
And even if we’d passed you on the edge of Central Park
I don’t think I’d have noticed it
Does that mean that I’m over it?
Two night stand, third floor walkup
New York, the brink of autumn
I run and catch the last bus
Just in time