I am there with you
Nokyoung Xayasane

The morning is quiet and damp from last night’s rain.
I wake up and pour a cup of iced coffee.
There is a silence that only early morning can bring.
There is the damp lawn chair and the puddles of water
on my balcony.

My balcony opens out onto a sleeping world.
I look out and it’s a sight I’ve seen many times before.
There is the schoolyard surrounded by green trees,
there is the sound of construction, endless construction,
a truck backing up, metal on metal,
there is the wind that lifts and the sparrows that sing.
I never tire of looking, I never tire of it.

I check my phone and there are messages from you.
You have taken a photo of the Brooklyn Bridge at night
and of Central Park during the day.
You are walking down tree-lined streets,
you are lying in the grass.
I close my eyes
and I am there with you.

I have taken a photo of my lunch and of my manicure.
I tell you, It’s called Midnight in NY.
It’s black, I say, but there are flecks of colour
like the lights of New York City.
I take these photos but I don’t take photos
of the CN Tower or the Sky Dome, or anything like that.
You close your eyes
and you are here with me.

With you, I have no questions.
With you, it’s easy like this.
I have no questions.
No questions for you.
I don’t have to ask,
Darling, who I am for you?
Because I know. With you, I know.

I sit in my apartment in Toronto
and I think, There is lust and then there is love.
There are others and then there is you.
There is you.
Only you.
You.

Then one day, you are back,
you are back from New York City,
you are back beside me.
Sometimes, when you are lying next to me,
I am missing you.
I miss you.
I look over quickly, quietly.
You’re still there,
and you’ll be there for a long while still.
This I know.
This I know.