Midnight Groceries

Futilely searching,
I found myself flailing
in a dreamscape
where everyone knew the rules,
but I couldn't find the directions,
searching through the dark streets
for the one who had held my hand and
kissed me in the basement in a bathroom
where genders were separated by gauze,
I looked at names on plaques
on anonymous buildings
and followed strangers inside
when they opened the door
to bring in midnight groceries.

In what looked like a bachelor pad,
but also maybe an apartment I once saw,
bathed in orange light,
a round couch (a bed?),
and rooms like a maze,
impossible to navigate,
dotted with candles,
I checked my text messages to discover,
"Hope you won't mind, playing cards with my friends,"
but I did mind because I had left the comfort
of the ones who loved me to try something new,
only to be set on a side street
of Manhattan, surrounded by concrete,
led by the nose to something that didn't exist.