I think we were the closest thing to being children that day; two pairs of eyes, seeing the old city of south bohemia without agenda, responsibility, & without towering authority. We climbed over bridges, moats, toy stores, & pastry shops. We got lost in a castle garden, where you told me how long & pretty my hair was, when it blew in the wind. You tripped on the stoney street, & I laughed a wild & ridiculous laugh. Before you could even get mad at me, you began laughing as well, your hands covering the grin on your face.
A silence came upon us as we walked at times, a peaceful kind of quiet. & then we were off talking about all sorts of things: my childhood, your family in New York, old friendships, old movies; getting turned around again & again as we spoke on & on. We ate a platter of pheasant & vegetables & dumplings right on the river, as the blue night turned pale black. I fell asleep on the bus ride home, right before we ordered croissants, right before you put on a movie. The rain pattered on the windows as traffic & lights blurred by; washing the day away with rhythm, with sound.
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