Remember that time when I was on a first date with that guy. I brought him to your place and we sat at the edge of the pool while you laughed at the german-exchange student swimming laps.
And I jumped in with all of my clothes on and he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or not, because of the way I floated but he didn’t know that it was something I always did
He texted me later saying he wished he kissed me but I didn’t check until morning because we were singing loud and the neighbors were yelling
We lived outside of Richmond but didn’t like to think of it that way like it was separate but the way we put up fences like rows of wooden teeth isolated us within
The patches on the Huguenot Bridge, the old one made your car bounce and the radio went in and out Remember that time when we would only smoke marlboro’s?
That guy’s car was a stick so it didn’t move the same way yours did and he accidentally turned down that one way street on our way to meet you at that show
But I don’t even remember going in because of something like the doors were closed but the sound was ****** so we walked around the corner to that place we like to go and sit on the pillows on the floor
At home I sat on the third floor alone, and the lack of laughter is louder somehow And the shadows stretch further as the night gets longer and draws out the little pieces...
Let’s stay sane so we drive downtown and see three guys long boarding down broad street at midnight they’re in that band that’s pretty good so we yell out the window and break into a long laugh.
Sadness is like salt that pool was like the dead sea it helps you float because no one wants to sink to such abundant misery
And joy it was there too riding in cars with you and that guy who loved me like a fool
The two ideas of pain and joy lingered over me like opposing magnets but the water must have been cold because I was numb
But when gravity pulls from two sides it compresses The Earth breaks and makes a mountain; I broke and sank to the fiberglass bottom of your *****, suburban pool.