Into the Night

I wonder if you remember me how I remember you

With the same fervor

The undulled resurgence of emotion as your image comes to mind.

Do you remember the way you stared?

Or the way I tried to avoid your eyes

Knowing a direct glance would be an unintended invitation

To linger

Longer?

Do you remember what you were wearing?

I wore dark jeans. Black boots. A black turtleneck sweater.

A forest green military style jacket. Paisley scarf. Grey gloves.

Do you question what you wore that day?

Through all of those bundles of fabric designed to protect me from winter I searched

For some flaw

Some tear or fray

That rendered them insufficient to defend me from you.

It was winter in D.C.

A day or two after Christmas.

And you and I were on the same train.

Perhaps both headed home

To friends and family that would think nothing of our safe arrival

The comfort of routine

Of nightmares left avoided.

Do you remember how you walked over to me?

A failed attempt at being suave as you waddled with the sway of the metro.

Do you go back in time and wish you had just walked by?

Do you imagine what would have been if my backpack had filled the space that you invaded?

I do.

Do you remember how my thigh felt when you grabbed it?

How I jerked away and pushed you?

How blood seemed to rush out of my heart and into my lungs with an all-constricting panic as I forced out the words my mother and sisters before me coached me to say?

Did it sound rehearsed when I seethed, “You. Don’t. Touch. Me.”?

Do you remember how you defended yourself,

Saying you meant no harm?

How you sulked away like a child told ‘no’?

Swaying with that old train again,

Crawling like an injured roach back into the dark?

We got off at the same station.

I know because I watched you.

You followed me for four blocks

And my mind’s eye can still read every neon sign we passed.

Do you remember how many feet there were between us

As I counted every step to keep me from running?

Do you remember when you finally turned away?

How in that moment my shoulders loosened and breath returned to my lungs?

Can you still feel my presence when I am out of sight?

I didn’t feel safe until I got home

And there are nights when I still don’t feel safe.

Sometimes I can still feel you over my shoulder.

Sometimes I can still see you lurking in the corner of my eye.

Sometimes you still follow me

Into the night.