WE COULD'VE BEEN LEGENDS

in which I'm text-talking shit as usual

WE COULD’VE BEEN LEGENDS

“I’m so ready to — [REDACTED] 
& go live in a loft in Spain

I wish it were the 70s so we could actually do that kinda shit”

“god, me too,” Lauren texts back.
“I’d happily be a starving artist 50 years ago.”

(Just your average weekday,
talking shit over text.)

I was running hot about
— something — 
I’ve already forgotten what
two months later

but my nonsense (except is it? really?) 
is consistent, at least,
fantasizing about ditching it all

for a loft in Spain,
Paris, 
New York City,
wherever, 
it’s always an artist’s loft in this fantasy,
ideally 
circa 1969,
so I can hang with Patti & Robert & —

Whatever would get this 
GODDAMN 
PHONE
OUT OF 
MY HAND
& outta my life!

I’ll be dramatic in any era, in any city, baby

if only,

if only —

I would have written so many letters!
My god! Would Saul B. be writing me, too? 
Just a postcard, that’s all I really want

Give me one line and I’ll —

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