there is hardly a difference between the things
that have hurt me and the things that made me who I am.
the first time I saw my dad in a different light,
when a train gate smashed his windshield in the
middle of the night.
the nights my mother sang
Somewhere Over the Rainbow to me.
just us, alone.

the first time I fell in love.
we sat in the park until midnight,
spotting shooting stars until our
eyes got heavy.

the first time I saw your bedroom,
eating peaches & kissing.

the first or second or third time I saw you
after you said you, "couldn't do this anymore."
when I was drunk, & you had a car.
I wanted you to take me to your house
instead of mine.

things aren't so simple to be explained.
you were a train gate, I was a windshield.
if things were simple,
you'd be a two a.m song
on the car ride home.

- about you, but mostly about me.