We'll go out, to the city, where we're never and always
alone.
We won't go to that café, we went there one Friday
night. And not to that one, we planed on going there to our
'two months together'.
You'll look for a necklace for the medallion she gave you.
We won't talk about her or him or us.
We'll try not to meet people we know.
We won't walk in dark alleys and I won't cling to you when a
cat appears out of nowhere.
We'll be settled and calm.
We won't go to hear jazz and won't dance.
I won't crack out of some childish pride- not letting you
see me cry, and you won't 'cause you've already cracked.  
We'll both enjoy, but not too much, and plan on doing it
again, although we'll both know we don't mean it.
Wouldn't it be fun going out again?