3.30.19

Remember the days?
The dizzy daze from riding the spiraling comets
into outer
space bar,
space bar,
space bar.
I type,
you write.
We journal
despite
our hiccups and dry spells
and what rhymes with write?
Let’s remember the songs,
remember the night
that tasted like that red
wine
we drank in downtown light.
You know,…
the one in the fun-shaped round bottle.

How long has it been?
Since the time we got kicked out of that concert, right?
Yes, that one.
You remember because it was the worst night
for us.
I still go to that venue…I’m actually on my way there right now
to see our favorite band.
We’ve seen them together a few times
and I had my fingers crossed
we’d see each other
again.
You don’t live here anymore.

I heard a song the other day that you would love.
I wish I could talk
music
and poetry
with you
since it’s a truly magical era
for new sounds
and becoming who we are supposed to be.
You could probably edit this for me and
add in some mythological creature or
Latin word
I’ve never known.

It’s weird to think we are dreaming and
screaming
at the same time in different cities.
We don’t even talk anymore,
but if we did,
I would say something like:
“You should really come to this concert tonight!!!!! It would be like old times. Will dance for the both of us.”

I didn’t send you anything,
But sure enough,
you were there
saying something like:
“SIM, I knew you’d be here tonight.”

-wait ’till you see what I wrote on the way up here // from sometime in NOV.

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