January 18, 2007

in a attic apartment in Iowa in a bed too big for one
you fell asleep with the stereo when the day was done
on a hardwood floor in Memphis with a hangover and rain
I laid there in my sleeping bag and heard the walls whisper your name
I missed you in Mississippi with a map drawn on my chest
my hands kept driving south, my thoughts raced Midwest

this fall will be all phone calls and postcards
and I wish you were here's
last night the streetlights they painted on October ice
and your face appeared

I got dead drunk and dreamed of you down in New Orleans
you sting just like one fifty one and you burn just like Jim Beam
you've got Virginia's good looks and Carolina's charm
if you were Florida I'd be the sea and I'd carry you afloat in my arms
in a basement flat in Chicago in a bed too small for two
I'm holding this beat up six string when I should be holding you

- Hanalei Beacon in the Distance

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