recounting a dream
in this world, we met much later than usual. college roommates, at the cusp of graduation, in an apartment that resembled the 2nd floor of one the many homes i've left behind. i don't remember what you were studying this time around, but your room was always filled with music and the murmur of your friends' voices.
we lived like strangers for the most part. our schedules never coincided. we were never home at the same time. we spoke infrequently and only via alphabet magnets on our fridge.
"fod here", "tysm", "rain tom", "ok", "was loud?", "no", "ok"
then finally — an intersection. carpooling home from a mutual friend's party, squished together in the back seat. i was nodding off and you guided my head to your shoulder. i tell you that it's been a while since i've seen you, so you promise to develop a habit of forgetting your keys.
from there, it blurs together. the bump of the road, the hair on my cheek, the itch of your sweater, the gentle hand on my thigh.
i know i'm meant to love you in every lifetime we meet.