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Subtitle foreign films and spilled milk on the floor

A cool breeze blew through the torn screen of your back porch 

I drove 80 mph from your house, a race against my car’s digital interior clock

I set it 7 minutes ahead, just to keep myself assured 

Heavy footed on the pedal, Heavy handed on my heart

Trying to gather momentum into the night where cars disappear

Music made in basements, we confessed our love in coded lyrical arrangements

We were something different from the rest. 

I was underappreciated and over exposed

You always played it close to the vest though

I stayed steady, sunk into that mustard colored couch

With your run-down converse sneakers tapping rhythmically on the concrete floor

I watched you strum that old acoustic guitar so effortlessly 

You always put me on the spot, I could never cleverly refute

Inhaled to fill my lungs, to breathe in the nights summer air

The smell of cowboy killer cigarettes and open farm fields for miles

I felt like I was posed in a painting every time we sat beneath your weeping willow tree

Focus, Zoom, and capture it, so I could save it in an old shoebox labeled “memories”

Next to the cassette tape mix you made for me

You always knew how to drive me consequently crazy

In our thrift store threads, we really thought we were setting new trends

Ugly sweaters and corduroy pants

We were hipsters before hipsters began

But now our booth for two is seating one

I see you sometimes in passing

I so badly want to tell you all that has happened

But I settled for telling you in my head, because it was just easier to avoid you