real love

there was the time
we were in Chinatown in nyc.
it was near
the end of our relationship,
both done
with each other, living
on fumes, neither one
of us, as Gladys would sing,
wanting to be the first
to say goodbye.
but we were hit from behind
by a tourist
as we rolled slowly
along looking for a place
to eat.
no damage done.
we all moved on.
I remember that it was
raining, and cold.
I remember looking at her
in the early morning fog
and thinking
this has to end
at some point.
we stared at each other
with this thought in mind.
I remember that moment,
eye to eye
as we stood in the street.
the bloom of our breathing
in front of us.
hungry for real love.