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every fucking song, man
my eyes would be swimming in
you
  you
    you
       you
          you
-
i am clutching anticipation tightly against my chest
my fists are battered battered battered
-
i think that love is curled up under a table,
wooden shelf pressed to its ear,
your voice pressed to the other,
sweating and breathing too heavy
-
what?
-
(sometimes i wonder what you'd say if i saw you,
right-in-the-middle-of-middle-aged-suburbia;
while driving around my clanging cart and humming a song no one knows anymore.)

[but then the high wears off and i realize i never gave a shit in the first place.]