Was it the laundromat or the library? one of the two, i'm sure. I laughed at your shoes and then we left together, wandering, no destination in mind. Your mom bought you a star when you were a kid and you began counting, only getting to thirty-seven. A little persistence, I suggested, so you counted the illuminated windows instead. We dropped into a little place to get a bite. Toast and tea. Fries and coke. We split the check evenly. 70-30, that is, and left. waking to the front door, I messed up your hair. It's better that way. We talked about nothing in the darkness and I slipped off my shoes. We slept all morning long and stayed in bed all afternoon. I told you not to shave and you laughed. Beards are better. You found a box of cereal and we ate the last of it, tv on in the background as we canceled our old plans for the day and made new ones.