we went to see Inside Llewyn Davis.
I lost my bandana,
we got into an argument
and I ate a Coney dog,
got too drunk,
and ended up hopping a flight
to Florida.
That was a long time ago,
2013, five years ago,
right after Kendra Jean
decide I was too fucked up
to love.
When love is perfect,
it usually means everything is fucked up.
I kept moving
and now I can't watch that movie,
but I still dream of being a folk musician
in Greenwich Village,
which is appropriate to the poetry I make,
because of the honest stories I tell.
there are always two girls
in your world,
or two loves, because it is 2018,
and I want to be sensitive and politically correct
and liberal as fuck,
but there is nothing you can do about loving
two people at the same moment of your short life.