i like driving around at night and being in luv w/you

one hand on the wheel the other on my neck

god what’s wrong with me all i fantasize about

is us at night taking turns, windows down one driving while the other–

speaking of hands i stare at them all day their roads their fates i write them

i still can’t draw them. mathematically speaking this relates

to my inability to fold a map back up the way mapmakers intended.

life hack: when you give in and fold the paper in half, point A

touches point B. suddenly our cities are not so far apart.

i want to take the backroads to you. like the ones i take

to get to rt. 28, which is the mass ave of my life now. i can’t help

but compare everything in my life to something else i felt before it, hollowing it

new then climbing inside to sing my old songs. i’m trapping myself

inside echoes. but i’m learning to keep quiet in the new stillnesses until i mirage

through the fade. til the new shines through. @joshcornillon tweeted nostalgia is poison 

and that’s my hot take!! stop wanting things back!! want new things!!

and like RT but you return like a planet everyone warns about

i never see you coming and we don’t believe

in linearity so nothing is retrograde if we decide it isn’t. i want to say

i’ve never felt this way before and mostly i haven’t

but ok listen the first time i heard your name, it wasn’t yours yet

it belonged to a friend of my father’s. an old name.

i was six years old and it struck me. i repeated it

to myself over and over while i played with legos.

my dad’s friend’s daughter didn’t think anything of it

just kept handing me legos. isn’t that so weird and funny.

it’s like i knew you were important before i even knew you

it’s like the world around me was like “yeah basically”     it’s like

something was going 60 on a backroad to cut time in half

to fold time in on itself point you meeting point me. anyway

i just remembered all this on tyler st and wanted

to tell you.