Memory Medley

The water drips down my bottle and back into the ocean.
It’s almost 2006 all over again.
The electricity surrounds me with the lights off.
Cue the gloom?

Let me get a Rob Roy.
Are you a regular here?
This is Manhattan.
And you’re no married type.

But you are.
Remember Pasadena.
Roses grow here, there, and here.
But you already knew that.

Knew how I crumbled with an “I’m proud.”
But I never heard it.
I was lost in the Long Beach cloud.
It never stopped raining.

I was playing with fire.
You brought the ice
after I danced with her.
We all laughed for hours.

Locked notes in origami.
Clokey characters defined.
A future 17-mile drive.
All based on a lie.

A night of Smashing Pumpkins.
You all thought you were so funny.
“Can I kiss you?”
Such a sweetheart.

A piano player and a guitarist
make the most beautiful music together.
But no one hears
it.

A heartbreak at “fucking Yucca.”
Do you remember that?
They really do that.
That’s why you’re a favorite.

I read those lines better than you,
but there’s only room for one lead.
You handled it like a champ.
I stood up there to feed.

You were so mad.
Best show ever.
She was really hot.
Quiet for two hours home.

They all heard it.
All of them.
She would never eat at a place like this.
That’s her favorite seat.