We agreed to meet at 8 a.m., but when I showed up 15 minutes early, you were already sitting at a bench, wearing shorts in October and working on a crossword puzzle. Your hair was still wet, and we spent the next few years arguing over who moved first.
Neither of us had slept. I ate only three bites of my breakfast but drank all of my coffee. We didn't know each other then -- not like we know each other now -- but we held hands and kissed down the length of avenues. I can still smell your wet hair. I smell it every morning because I use the same shampoo now.
Later that night, I fell asleep at a birthday party but managed to drag myself to your doorstep. I was too young, but I am older now. I wake up early. I eat my whole breakfast. I walk down streets by myself.