The city has become an ex-boyfriend I've run into at the grocery store, arm and arm with a new woman. I find myself lusting for it.
In three hours I will be face to face with our history. We'll exchange knowing glances that silently sift through our past. The small irritating attributes that seperate us have become endearing. Sleep with the window open, leave your toothpaste remains in the sink. It's wasn't you, it was me.
I'm looking forward to coffee shops that aren't Starbucks. Sleeping in rooms that aren't filled with the stench of overstarched linens and eternal sadness. Starting a brief love afair with the city I can't commit to. Appreciating the details.
Except for the taxis on Nicollet. Fuck 'em.
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