i don't know what this is.

I woke up next to you only to discover that my dream was just a dream and you were just asleep. My feet were not worn from walking with you to the field where old traincars and bicycle wheels lie in wait for humanity to destroy them or realize they still hold some practicality, not just nostalgia.
The traincars were wooden with paint the color of rust and christmas-tree-green chipping from years of weather happening.
The bicycle wheels were few in number and normal in size, yet the spokes were not so rusted; maybe the wheels get up in the night and wander through the trainyard, finding little animals to play practical jokes on then they make their way back to their resting places to sleep all day. And in the rain they reconcile with the animals and hide in their nests, to keep their spokes shining-new, just as the first day they were ridden home. O wheels, how did you end up here?
So I woke up next to you feeling that there was more between us than there actually was, that we had just spent the day riding wooden train cars and screaming rebellious songs.
"Do what you want, fuck everything else!"
And when you finally woke up I tried to remember that we were the same, nothing had changed. Well if anything had changed it was me because I had this dream where we rode trains that we thought were too fragile to support us, but instead they slung us around with the strength and speed of 10,000 Amtrak trains.
10,000 Amtrak trains? What?
And then we sipped coffee. You sipped cause you like the way black coffee tastes and because you need it to wake you up and to stave off that headache you've got from the night before. I sipped cause I like the way black coffee tastes on my teeth later and because I just like to be with you when the sun comes through the blinded windows in slats; I have no headache.
After the sipping we sat on the front porch, soaking up the sun and letting all of our small talk say the things we could not.
"What time does your train leave?"
"6:30."
"Do you want to eat dinner before?"
"Sure. Let's make a feast."
"A feast, eh? That sounds good."
"Yeah, we can go shopping in a bit."
"Okay.........have you seen my jacket?"
"I think it is on the coffee table. I'll get it for you."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I need a refill anyway."
OR
Don't leave. Just stay a little longer.
I have to, you know.
I know, but it is nice when you are around.
I cannot.
Why?
You know why.
What is it that we are doing?
How am I supposed to know. Does it matter?
I guess not.
I will see you when your cheeks are red from summer and when things will make less sense.
And so we waited around and cooked dinner and I ended up not going to the train station because I did not want you to see me cry. We are nothing and tears do not solidify that fact, they only make things seem more serious and who needs seriousness at a time like this?
We are nothing.