the day I met yr high school friends
you proposed we steal from them
we drove my mom’s car to the north shore
I was your chauffeur with no plans
no surprise the dewy cans
slid right through our slimy hands
and then we drove off
back to Montauk (hwy)
we’re The World’s Worst Anarchists
(da da da)
the day I met yr old roommates
well, you had to meet me at the gate
winked as I rolled past and blocked the rest
blamed it on the ~new climate~
the day I met yr ex-boyfriend
at the empty train station
heard who got barred from Philadelphia
I see how your views could change
but if that’s what yr latest call “progressive”
then, heaven knows, I want no part of it
cus if “holding folx accountable for cream cheese wiped off a bagel”
is….. well
a surface that reflective should’ve been careful with any
outside noise afloat
searching for a place to go
cause now you’ve got friends with covered eyes
and plans that’d make the last ones cry
lemme tell you bout it