She looks like you but it couldn't be you because she is as old now as you were then.
Which is as old as I am and that is not young now.
But for a moment I pretend that now is then and turn around to see all the rest of them that would be with us now.
All the other girls kohl-eyed and Doc Marten'd. All the other men side-burned and pompadoured.
We're wrapped in a canopy of Djarum, thrift store sweaters and Riverwest flats.
Then you would lift a beer to your poppy-colored lips. I would want to bite your magnolia scented neck.
We were each other's summer vacation, even I knew that.
That our now was fleeting. Soon to be then.
You'd show up looking like a freshly picked tulip when I was done with work
and follow me down the long, dark nights that led to sea-sick mornings.
Your tea kettle terrified me. Your roommate painted Matryoshka dolls.
Then you got a new job you that you went to school for.
I left a couple messages on your answering machine
But I knew that you had slipped through the floorboards of my attention into then
(Text by Sonia Simões)