(no subject)
I think of people as timelines.
You were all juicey and ripe with summer promise.
It was hot and I would blast my car's A/C while driving to your house,
my ipod hooked up to an adaptor in the cassette deck
I would belt out Modest Mouse
thinking that I was prettier now because
I'd moved on.
I hit a tree trying to go see you the first time
and maybe that is why I am thinking about you now.
It only just dented my bumper
but little did I know there was more insidious tree afflictions
internally
just waiting for the opportune moment to leap from my steering wheel
"hey, remember me!"
and all the akward moments spent secretly examining your room mate
come flooding back.
He was hot.
He used big words.
You used big words too. But his were sexier.
Almost British.
Maybe it was just his impeccable syntax.
No matter, since the both of you are just midpoints;
blips in the linear equation of how getting from
point a to point b took so fucking long.
I still think about you.
Never fondly.
Not because I disliked our time together
only, I was mostly indifferent to it.
It strikes me that most of last year was spent
being indifferent.
Or maybe there just wasn't anything worth giving a shit about,
but you probably don't want to hear that.
I look at you like historians look at battles in the dark ages;
with great curiosity and no personal investment -
its not like they knew anyone in it or anything -
and I wonder about how much you probably hate me.
I seem to have left a wake behind me of the broken hearted,
but I am unsympathetic.
Everyone learns to know better eventually.
I'm just sorry I couldn't at least get a final evaluation from you.
Maybe just a short review of short-comings and triumphs.
What you would have done differently.
Clarification on a couple fights that you may or may not be aware we had.
Forgive me if I sound callous, only
I had to replace my bumper
and I can't help but notice that I would be at least 914 dollars richer
had I never met you.
You were all juicey and ripe with summer promise.
It was hot and I would blast my car's A/C while driving to your house,
my ipod hooked up to an adaptor in the cassette deck
I would belt out Modest Mouse
thinking that I was prettier now because
I'd moved on.
I hit a tree trying to go see you the first time
and maybe that is why I am thinking about you now.
It only just dented my bumper
but little did I know there was more insidious tree afflictions
internally
just waiting for the opportune moment to leap from my steering wheel
"hey, remember me!"
and all the akward moments spent secretly examining your room mate
come flooding back.
He was hot.
He used big words.
You used big words too. But his were sexier.
Almost British.
Maybe it was just his impeccable syntax.
No matter, since the both of you are just midpoints;
blips in the linear equation of how getting from
point a to point b took so fucking long.
I still think about you.
Never fondly.
Not because I disliked our time together
only, I was mostly indifferent to it.
It strikes me that most of last year was spent
being indifferent.
Or maybe there just wasn't anything worth giving a shit about,
but you probably don't want to hear that.
I look at you like historians look at battles in the dark ages;
with great curiosity and no personal investment -
its not like they knew anyone in it or anything -
and I wonder about how much you probably hate me.
I seem to have left a wake behind me of the broken hearted,
but I am unsympathetic.
Everyone learns to know better eventually.
I'm just sorry I couldn't at least get a final evaluation from you.
Maybe just a short review of short-comings and triumphs.
What you would have done differently.
Clarification on a couple fights that you may or may not be aware we had.
Forgive me if I sound callous, only
I had to replace my bumper
and I can't help but notice that I would be at least 914 dollars richer
had I never met you.