visite

if you showed up at my doorstep one morning
i would show you the places that built me
we would walk to the beach
have a stroll, a morning tea
we would take a train
you would pay
i would say
first, we have to go to a bookshop and choose a book for each other

as the journey commenced
we would stare out the window
talking about the universal the personal the reversal
i would think about einstein and how they always use the train example to explain special relativity to amateurs
i often think about this while in a train

i would also think about a million other things
and about having a million other thoughts
and at least as many thoughts about those thoughts
that are not at all related to the conversation we are having

as soon as we start reading our books
we would fail because there is too much to talk about
luckily time runs slower when in a moving train
(not that this means you have more time to talk but the amateur often concludes this)

the train would take us to the highlands
where we would feel tiny, humongous, finite simultaneously
words would be absent
high
lands
touching hands, thoughts
going back

i would tell you which stranger i met at which corner
how our conversations started
that one guy complimented me on the bike light attached to my backpack
i would tell you how they all assume i’m scandinavian
and how i take this as a compliment
i would not tell you about their flirting
or what i presume is flirting

we would walk and walk and forget to eat
you would suddenly realise we are forgetting
and pop into a cafe – not a chain
never a chain
while i go to the bathroom
you order gin tonics with our lunch because why not
and tea for me because
well
the aggressive love of tea, together with the big marmite jars in every shop, is why i am home in this city

we would visit the gallery
each going our way, not feeling obliged to adopt your pace
playing our game
guessing which piece of art is your favourite
once again realising how guessing the other’s number one is way easier than choosing your own

i feel nostalgic for this day even though it is not over, you would say
in the bus bringing us closer to home
i would not reply, rest my head on the trembling window instead
you would infer i am tired
in fact i feel that happy stinging sadness
i still hope to find a word one day that describes exactly this

we would pass by lidl and buy vegetables and i would cook for you effortlessly
while you put on music in the kitchen and silently watch me
i would pretend not to notice your eyes on my back

i would have soaked in every detail
be hyperaware of the fact that we live

you intensify