One Track History

I wouldn’t say that there’s a whole lot
That I firmly believe in really.
Unless we’re talking the laws of physics,
Or my absolute love for my mom’s cooking.
I mean, fate?
Really?
Who has time for that.
But in all the train cars,
On all the lines,
In the whole damn city,
And I had to walk in to yours?
Shit.

For a moment, I remembered
What it was like to be fifteen and
In need of saving.
When you asked me if I wrote,
And we wrote a story that told us
We could be weird if we were weird
Together.
And how three years later,
You told me to go be weird
Alone.

But the best part of that ride,
Those 30 minuets and promise to
“Totally get coffee,”
Was a reminder that when everything changes,
Not everything has to change.
College, forclosure, my sister’s wedding
Which sorry, you didn’t make the list,
And we’re still talking about your latest
Internet boyfriend and haunted houses.
You’re still wearing the same pink eye shadow,
That I probably helped you pick out once,
And I’m still dying my hair,
Like the time you did mine.

A lot of closure can happen in
A half hour ride as a captive
On a train car.
And no, we won’t get that coffee.
And maybe you’ll never see
This or the other dozen or so rants
About or against you and my youth
In a box in my closet.
But it was nice to see you,
And the fact that we kept being weird
Apart.

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