dear you,

yesterday morning when i saw you sit down next to me at the strousbourg st. denis station, i noticed another boy looking at you and suddenly felt jealous. when i saw you tilt your head to see what book i was reading, i knew that i wanted to give you so much more than an awkward smile . when the train was slowing between oberkampf and st. ambroise, i fumbled for a piece of paper, planning to give you my number. when you stood up to get off at the same stop as me, i could already feel that outside, it was no longer rainy and cold. when i asked you for directions to the impasse truillot, i already knew exactly how to get there. when you pressed your arm slightly against mine while climbing the steps to the outside world, i remembered how important small displays of affection are to me. when you quickly and nervously asked if i wanted to meet you at the café les cent kilos after i was done visiting the apartment, i silently thanked all gods that might be. when i was in the post office faxing my dossier to the landlord with the misnomer of a rapid and simple public fax machine, i could only think about the café one block down. when i entered les cent kilos and couldn’t find you, i thought that maybe you hadn’t come at all. when i asked the waiter if he had seen you, i immediately noticed the table where you had just minutes before been waiting. when i ran out the door to try to catch up with you, i saw nothing but streets and sidewalks filled with people who weren’t you. when i slowly, sullenly walked back to the café, i noticed a woman on a bench who was tearing a single rose to pieces. when i sat down and wrote you a letter that i left with the waitress at the café, i was secretly running through my mind scenes of you doubling back to meet me. when i came back from work yesterday afternoon, i came home via the café at st. ambroise. when i asked the waitress if she had seen you or given you my letter, i felt like i was in a sad movie never made. when i sat shivering on a bench trying to ward off the cold december wind for two hours this evening at your metro station, i thought of how i always seem to see the same faces over and over again in paris, and how desperately i wanted one of them to be yours...