To the boy who slings beer near the capitol of Virginia:
I can't drink what you're selling, but
I do wish I could climb into your mind for a day.
I'd watch the colors pass by as you switch lenses,
as you understand the misunderstood,
as you explain all of that ignorance
that rents the space under the rug.
You made me dream with my eyes wide open.
These are the words I never said to you
and the words you needed to hear in the dark.
I missed the boat with you on it,
but I often wonder
if you ever care to go for a swim.