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I invent stories in my head about you.
They’re pretty happy ones.
They’re the ones that I want to be true.
There are these fantastic conversations that you have with strangers
On staircases, on basement floors, on bean-bag chairs drinking hot tea
In smoke filled rooms. Sometimes I’m in them too

Not always a bystander – I know them all by heart, I can be anywhere in them now.
On the sidelines, in the middle. I'm dropping bottles of wine on the floor.
But I always dress you in that hat now. Remember,
the one that you wore when you and mike traded clothes
That night in January of ‘-02
Him in that dress
and You in his clothes like some custom suit.
But it was that sly grin on your face
that just completed the look.

I love that we shared
our Davids and the lives they live
And messages
And dumb poetry.
I love how I think of you – so fucking fondly.
I’m amazed at the life I imagine you have
How I’ve put it all together in my head,
Out of some fragments of misplaced conversations.
The smiles you have –
You are always the scandal -
show that you have no regrets. It is spectacular.

Everyone wants to find you,
And (come get you)
to bring you out with us again.
We can’t wait to tell you our stories
about how our hearts were broken
and how we mended.
We know you would appreciate that part the most.
Personally,
I’d like to find out if my stories about you are true
And that you’re happy and content
And a scandal
And loving it.
Maybe someday you'll (come get us).
and tell us your real stories.
I promise (they will totally be our little secret).

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