a year ago today

we weren't yet listening to born to die by lana del rey, but I am now, and we did soonafter. it was right before christmas, days before and I was making screenprints in my room and it was 17 degrees outside in december. I remember walking from Gayulz Club down state st. to the hardware store where I purchased painters rags and who knows. I was almost crying, but it was sunny. this song really makes me remember that feeling. I had just been abandoned, the heart was sagging in my chest with loss. I remember that so much. but one year ago today (it's thanksgiving today, but a year ago it wasn't, but say last thanksgiving is a year ago today) I was too hungover, I think I threw up. I think andy left Gayulz Club to go to thanksgiving dinner with sun blood stories and I was left huddled on the couch. nickey made me scrambled eggs in coconut oil which is all I wanted, but I didn't tell her that the brown part of the eggs made me feel sick. I hugged andy around his waist and I urged him to come back soon. I wanted him to just hold onto me forever, thanks. 

we had gone last night one year ago today to brittany's SAD party, which was pretty fun, andy & I played piano and I danced with brett and nickey & brett & andy & I all walked home to Gayulz Club in the 17 degrees and we separated and remet at home upstairs. then it was the next day and I was too drunk for thanksgiving and honestly, I feel just about the same right now as I felt one year ago today. well?

what are the chances

that at any given moment someone somewhere is having the same thought as you?
is someone thinking abt driving in a red car through the middlewest with you
or maybe someone somewhere really wants a tunamelt, too

how likely is it that someone has invented you
and someone's laying around
imagining the two of you together
even though you'll never meet
and chances are
you aren't imagining them, at all
or, you don't feel the same way

one of my old boyfriends told me that
I wasn't his type
he told me that he didn't know who she was, this dream girl
that he had never met her
or anyone like her. he just new I wasn't she

when I was 18 I wrote on the cover of my diary
  everyone loves someone who loves someone else who loves someone else who loves someone else
I thought it was pretty poignant at the time
I was listening to a lot of modest mouse
and was dying my hair blonde and wearing white cargo pants

I don't really think abt that anymore
its just degrees
& timing
  aligned for two
and how often that happens, that two times converge
& then go along for awhile
it's probably as frequent as someone
  somewhere
envisioning a red car travel-companion
in shades with the windows down, hands on your knees
who'd love nothing as much
as sharing a tunamelt, too