I knew I liked you when I heard Lykke Li
wailing on the background of your
white colored victorian-textile-patterned myspace page.
Her song drifted to me like little ants to a piece of food
left on the sidewalk to long.
Your jeans clinged to you so extra skinny and there
on that chair you lounged so seductively
waiting and wanting, yet napping.
We exchanged music last night
and we opened the file cabinets of us
the ones that say, "I like this sort of stuff."
The ones that say here you are,
here is a piece of me.
You can have it.
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