Crosswalk

I’m not saying that I deserve to be remembered,

I’m admitting that I cannot bear to be forgot.

That I both hope and fear to see you at the opposite end of the crosswalk in the city that whispers your name so sharply sometimes.

That sometimes I read stories and you’re there, in between the lines and falling down the margins.

That you are still the most interesting person I’ve ever met.

I admit that I hope I’m a ghost to you too, even if I’m just a flicker in one of your dreams.

Until I see you again, maybe across the street.