Was it you spinning vinyl
In that 3rd floor apartment in New York
Walls close, a small space
You’re wrapped up in my sweater
And singing songs I knew once
To her and her angel face
While leaves paint the pavement outside

Or was it you shouting
In that rally on the streets of suburbia
Last fall, the rain fell forever
But you were brave wrapped in my sweater
Chanting with the big crowd
The air smelled like kettle corn
And the people on the street sides cheered

It couldn’t have been you
On the cold bathroom floor in Seattle
Cold sweats, pupils dilated
My sweater pulled over your sequin dress
Vinyl record song
                Skipping
                Skipping
                Skipping
                in the background
How you looked like disco ball
Shattered on the floor that day

It may have been you buying coffee
Across the taxi tracks in Brooklyn
Americano, extra shot
The city bubbling over like shaken soda
Smiling like the day I gave you that sweater
Broken as the disco ball on the floor
Spinning the vinyl I bought you in suburbia