I said I wasn’t gonna write another poem about hometown
stars and hooded sweatshirts and how life was a little warmer
when your thin fingers were on the steering wheel of that
**** station wagon or when they brushed up against mine

I said I was bigger than that now and I didn’t miss you anymore
and my own car didn’t stall at stop signs anymore and I didn’t
have a bonfire in my ventricles anymore cause I didn’t hear your
name much anymore, not these days

and I said I could barely even remember the time I promised
to never forget you and wasn’t that just the way it always goes
but now I’m here and small under the stars and awnings of our
dusty hometown and it’s still warm without you and I don’t
know how it ever got to be like that

and I do remember
and I wrote you this