I both love and hate the way everything reminds me of you When Pam goes out to walk Jake at lunch I get a flash of you Passing under the window With a wrinkled grey shadow on a leash. My teeth chatter in a half-rejected smile As I remember passing you As you trundled along with your eyes on the ground Looking awfully lost and pensive, as always. Eeyore cum Pooh Bear Trailing your own little rain cloud So that for the life of me I can’t remember the actual state of the weather that day. I go to a big movie theater A Cineplex type-deal with stadium seats In Northern Missouri About as far from home as my gas money could reach I’m running away from you I realize And the shame of your rejection. I’m running away from the parts of me That still recognize you in every inch of The only place that has ever been safe. Turns out they came with me. My eyes blink as we emerge from the darkened theater, My old friend and I, The light is harsh and I feel a moment of confusion When I realize it is still daylight. As we march resolutely into the bathroom, Bladders full of soda pop and the tepid water we’ve been drinking to beat the heat, A corner of my post-movie addled brain Catches on a bright poster. They’ve made one of your favorite books Into a motion picture. I hope for your sake that it’s good And then wonder if it is even something you’d bother to see. I doubt I’ll go But then I never did read the book And I wouldn’t want to think of you Or be able to keep myself from half-hoping Half-worrying, that I might turn around and see you there. Ridiculous, but true.