the vampire and oliver...

not from a past life,
but rather a past point
in my own life - driving
after dark and until dawn,
into the big city, the
buildings so tall and
amazing for a moment
and eerie for a
moment and
then home
and then
friends
again -
tea in
denny's,
cat food
in the park,
oliver the orange
orphan cat bolting
for the woods -
driving, smiling,
friends yet only
friends yet ...

only now do i see
it was still
good for me
even if not
physical at
that time -
you don't
know what
you've got
until it's
gone, she
once said,
perpetuating
the triteness
but on a very
real level of
acting.

vampiric, after
hours talk and
smokes and
carefree
if just
for the
night -
it was
like we
were going
out, my friend,
james, said.
only, no
'you know...'

i asked her once
and she was adament
not intimate about
the matter. one
time she offered
to let me sleep
over at her house
but i was afraid or
tired or both and
bolted.

and now, many years
later, the internet
'out there' - i th-
ink about her, won-
der where she is
right now and
whether she
will see my
writing and
think back
about oliver
the cat and schmoo
and all those other
(for lack of a better
word) moments?

she stole my heart,
she stole my time,
i ran away to find
a new place, a new
after high school
writer's game i
could play, still
tinkering with
short stories
and the novel,
trying to forget
the tragic death
of the second one
i'd come across
that tickled
my intellect
in the most
peculiar way.