So, here I am, Thanksgiving, nine o'clock.
Drinking cherry ***** and Diet Coke in my basement, thinking about you.
I want to call you, tell you the honest-to-god truth that I love you,
but I'm drunk and you're gone.

So I wish you were here too, Thanksgiving, nine o'clock.
Being drunk and silly and dancing and kissing.
But it's just me, being drunk listening to Ladies of Cambridge on repeat.

So I really want to call you and let you know that I thought of you
at least twenty-seven times each day this week,
but I won't because I'm drunk and nervous.

So I am writing poetry alone in my basement
on Thanksgiving, nine o'clock, drunk.
Vampire Weekend makes good company, I wish you were here.