On the road, almost to Fort Worth. Listening to The Anniversary gives me butterflies in my stomach. It's like when I play that Tilly and the Wall record, and I think about looking out your apartment window last summer, gripping a can of Pabst. The sweat from the can made my hands feel dirty. I spent most of my time at the apartment staring out the window. I think about resting my arm on the couch back and watching the sprinklers. I watched cars park. I watched couples that liked each other walk down 9th Avenue holding hands. We spent a lot of time on the couch.
The first week, you held my hand.
Touching each other, oh my god.
It felt like high school. I remember the night you asked me to come over, and you passed out before I got there. I threw rocks at your window and listened to your voicemail a million times.
The fourth week, you were indifferent.