I found myself in a dim-lit place of records and solemn faces.
We don't even have a record player;
but it's fun, you said. It's in.

I took myself beyond two corners and left
to an ice cream shop most extraordinarily mundane.
We're trash, you said. Might as well eat trash.

And then I floated to the spot we'd lay every night and warm ourselves
with ourselves.
You told me here you loved me.
You told me and we cried.