We are stuck at a traffic light
The one under the flyover they are taking forever to make.
The car smells like
Cologne, home and starlight
The plastic wrapping of the barbie dolls
The first time we listened to "In My Life"
The unitary method sum I got woefully wrong
The note inside the hardback origami book which says "For baby, '93"
The day we craned our necks to watch "Dinosaur" at the Rex
The night you got me my first, beautiful fountain pen that I lost anyway, but you forgave me.
The night you got me my first, beautiful fountain pen that I lost anyway, but you forgave me.
Every time you have dialed the long distance call and I did not let you hear my voice quiver.
Every time I have breathed sharply hoping I would be, even a differential closer, to being you.
Every time you did not say you were proud of me, but I knew you were, I think I did.
Every time I have tried to write this but ended up howling myself to sleep.
I imagine we will small talk about the crumbling city
And merge into the sweaty, patient crowd
United in our awkward, dispassionate affection.
And this is enough, this is bliss, this is us.
I imagine we will small talk about the crumbling city
And merge into the sweaty, patient crowd
United in our awkward, dispassionate affection.
And this is enough, this is bliss, this is us.
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