Alex came to me in my dreams again last night.
We were at a restaurant, our restaurant. The one we ate so many breakfasts at. The one I have taken every subsequent lover after him to eat brunch at, trying to reclaim something that I know I will ultimately always associate with him…So much of our city is marked with his thumbprint. The waitress brought us our meals & I kept trying to tell him something important, something I needed to say. He was arguing with me, that old bulldog behavior I loved and hated about him so much. Even as he quarreled with me, all I could think about was how much I loved him, how much I needed him to know. My mission, my aim. I kept trying to cut through the static of his debate. “Alex, it’s important. What I have to tell you, I need to say it. Please just let me say what I need to say.” He wouldn’t let me, his Brooklyn fire consuming the conversation, leaving me char….Finally, he just…left the restaurant. Words spoiling in my mouth, left unsaid. I sat holding the check without even the money to pay for it.
I wish I had at least said goodbye to him, the last time I ever walked out his door.
Meet me in Montauk, Alex. Meet me in Montauk.