Do you remember the kid
burning ants with a magnifying glass
and melting little toy soldiers
at that pool party?
He’s a lawyer now.
And the kid that taught us
how to smoke pot from an old soda can
in the woods near the railroad tracks?
Oh, he’s a cop.
And that kid that used to get us beer all the time?
He’s a cop.
And that preacher’s son,
that good christian
who talked us into spending
that weekend at bible camp
where we sang songs about Jesus
and loving thy neighbor
and turning the other cheek?
He’s a Green Beret,
making a career of killing people
who look an awful lot like Jesus
probably looked back in the day.
what is it that you’re doing?
I heard you were in the city a while back
and I almost called
but I was busy
and life got in the way
and you were probably busy too…
and… these are all terrible excuses
I should have called
but I was afraid that seeing you,
talking to you,
being close to you
might make me start thinking
about what might have been.
It’s been a long time
and I’m sure it would be just fine
but what if it’s not?
and I guess what scares me more is…
what if it is?
What if we don’t feel anything?
I guess I’m just not ready
to finish that chapter yet.
Oh, don’t get me wrong,
I’ve written volumes
since I fucked things up with you
but from time to time
I look back on that chapter
and I just can’t scribble that last period.
I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to,
I’m not sure I’ll ever want to.
We’re soul mates,
if I have to wait ten lifetimes
to get you back
but I’ll at least call
the next time
I hear you’re in the city.
And that’s a lie,
I’m sure I’ll find some terrible excuse…
so, since you were never one for excuses
and I know this might sound crazy
here’s my number…