I think of you for twenty seconds
twenty times each a day
if I breathe slow enough I can
feel it inside my chest, like
the drop of a hat or the
sound of a smoke alarm or
the turn of my car key or the
way you look past so vacantly
when I know that you can see me

I'm driving through familiar highways
that manage to take me to a foreign place
as if I'm headed to you
freshly washed feet and ***** sheets
inside of my catalogue apartment
every item inside belongs to someone else
but every part of me once did too
I'm sorry that I wholeheartedly believe
there’s something to say about being
old and new at the same time