That evening I started telling you
about my dream of reaching nowhere.
But your initial words
and the silence towards the end,
guided us to reach that roofless hut.
I then emptied my pockets
off the waiting smile that I collected
from a bus stop prostitute of the city.
The smile made the space brighter.
We had nothing much to talk about.
I was lying down next to your bed
thinking to reach you somehow.
You were sleeping as you discovered
the knack of reaching nowhere.
The next morning
we still journeyed together,
being not sure
whether that was a kind of
coming back or going away.