were we leaving rio or were we in new york i remember bossa nova on the breeze we were in the back seat of a cab we couldn t afford you were holding my old rucksack on your knees you leaned towards your window to see the traffic up ahead these commuters here you said could be the walking dead and we vowed to guard our dreams from all the storms that lay ahead from the winds of fear and age and compromise and we laughed about the hopelessness of so many peoples lives as we slowly moved towards the changing lights it was near les invalides or perhaps trafalgar square it was late at night the city was asleep you were clowning in the back seat with some friends we d found somewhere the kind back then we always seemed to meet there were those in this great world you said just fated to go far and among the lucky ones were we inside that car and your friends began to sing when you wish upon a star and you clapped along like you didn t have a care but once i turned to glance at you as we drove across the square and your face looked haunted in the changing lights was it last september it was autumn more or less you were waiting to cross some busy boulevard talking on your phone to your family i guess your briefcase tucked up high beneath your arm as i approached you turned around a question in your eye as though i might ignore you and just simply walk on by but we smiled and talked awhile about each others lives and once or twice i caught a wistful note then you moved towards the crossing as the cars slowed to a halt and we waved and parted beneath the changing lights