On Leaving the Castle

The very first time.
When we held hands under the skylight
in the theater lobby and looked up at the harbor,
the painted panoramic of the city I love,
and you pointed up at the wall like you really could see us
standing in the glass encased balcony,
like we were really there in the drywall looking down at us.
But I couldn't see, so I got behind you and
stood on my tip toes to see over your head, and
to follow the sight-line of your fingers.
I lied.
I told you that I knew what building you were talking about,
but really, I had no idea what I was looking at.
I was so busy thinking about how close you let me get
that I didn't notice the nervousness in your eyes,
or the other people in the room.
I just saw myself seeing myself.
I'd like to think that I am different now.
That I can look up and see us rather than just me.