Wednesday, September 7, 2011

{in the ocean washing off my name from your throat}

Jack Johnson- do you remember
7 years ago today.
Midnight pancake breakfast.
Horrible first impressions.
I was not that girl,
You were not that guy.
Calling you Andy for months.
Skateboard run-ins.
Phone calls with the window down on the highway,
Driving back from the beach.
Holly Berry.
Howie Day.
Glitter sidewalks.
Blue eyes.
Best surprise.
Again, magic.
Traffic & billboards & French fries.
Sitting on the hood of my car.
My favourite shirt.
Kissing you first,
Then saying I’m sorry.
And that I didn’t like you.
You laughing,
And smoking,
And always disappearing.
And always coming back.
Waiting, and waiting, and waiting for me.
Pink shirt.
Parks and resistance and pasta dinners.
Calls from New York City,
Because of glitter sidewalks,
And remembering.
Losing your heart in central park.
Waiting on your emails,
And always broken phones.
Sinking into my splatter paint sheets.
6 months of chivalry.
And knowing my no’s meant yes,
Even if I didn’t.
Rain storms,
And realizing,
And mountaintops,
And canyons and cigarettes.
And the best mixtapes I ever had.
Being so scared.
Skinned knees,
And laying on the cement behind my philosophy class.
Ditching and listening to sister hazel,
smelling your sweatshirt deeply.
Earrings from Africa.
Sadness and heartbreak and falling in love.
And choosing.

I still miss that little blue bike,
The flowers I painted on it.
Before you ever played this song for me.
The basket where you’d leave me notes & marbles & bouncy balls,
And things you found.
You laughing when I fell.
Me not being mad.
You refusing to dance in public with me.
Dancing by myself anyway,
And embarrassing you.
And wishing you’d sing with me.
And you wouldn’t.
Unless you thought I wasn’t listening.
Sunflowers in your eyes.
And still, sadness.
And ever still, sadness.  

9.6.11 ts