i don't know about the seasons or the rhythm of your feet or where you are going or if the rain has soaked on through your clothes and has touched your pale blue skin
i don't know how to whistle, or to talk to the sisters who live upstairs and are always angry
i don't know where you are or if you are thinking of me or if you have a new boy and if he is nice or like those sisters who live above me
i don't know your name or how to spell it or if you would ever want me to and if i did, what would you do if i said it to you?
i don't know if you miss me or if you are lying and if you aren't, what do you want to do with all of the time left to us to slaughter our regrets and laugh