I'll find a map and draw a straight line; over rivers, farms and state lines; the distance from A to where you'd be; it's only finger-lenghts that I see

Funny thing is
in a couple of months I'm going to carry my things into your apartment
but instead of staying it is going to be a sign of leaving

and for 17 days you'll share your bed with me
and I'll make my morning coffee in your kitchen
and make a mess in your living room
while listening to your roommates indie rock cds
kiss you to sleep
and wake you up with my snoring in the middle of the night
wake up early to have a shower with you before you leave to work
but crawl back to bed when you close the door

I am mostly just teary
you're trying to stay strong just to keep me sane

hush hush hush below my auricle

and your roommate is just a ghost wandering around his own apartment
without knowing where to go or where to be

And in the end all three of us pack our coffee mugs and couches and books and sex toys and loud speakers and passports and the microwave
and walk out from that apartment where we spent complete
3 days of lust
2 days of peace
9 days of desperation
1 day of remorse
2 days of escapism
all of them wrapped in insubstansial love and ignorance

and I'll hold the plane tickets 4675.2 miles away from you