Through a Top 40 Hit

Over my mother's mormon shame I was locked out in the rain beneath mcmansions that loomed She prayed over my soul She'd walked in on it all Alex split on that fall afternoon I was singing to myself a pop song That I felt a lustrous man had written for me and you I only knew the words to the first and second verse And the chorus he arranged with soft oohs When I showed up at your house, you said Kid you are a mess Flashed a smile then you kissed my chapped lips Again your dad was out at the office or lake house We drank vodka in your room on the bed You said, He's probably passed out cold—business casual As my phone spat out that top 40 hit Then we kind of fooled around Fell asleep under the sound of that third verse I never knew or forget Now I'm staring down a hallway in the high school we spent those days When I'm cut by a cold, bitter air That's whipping through the doorway likes ghosts with our names I am light. I am bare And you swore I was your best friend while that pop song kept on dancing As we laid in the back of your car You made me feel just like a kid, almost something innocent Back then those words seemed to mean more Now a stone-faced refugee at barely 23, I smoke a bowl So I can scroll through the pictures I tried to delete, glassy eyes stare at the screen Thinking how I haven't seen you in five years And I've been with other men. Crashed my body, pale, bruised into them Last night I found a CD in my car. Burned, sharpie scribbled on it The title of that top 40 hit