not yet 21 - with introductions done - a first slow dance just
ends.I was at my best - we ignored the rest (my band and your
friends).But as better night became best day we left the party
while last records played. What started as dessert back at your
house ended on the couch...hours at your mouth...sunday's
on our hands. We followed where it led. I followed you to bed.
We started secret plans.Forward 7 months: I've only seen
you once...I never call on time. Trying to seem tough, I said
one visit's enough - enough to keep you mine (of course it
wasn't...)We were done by june. You'd graduate and
leave for london soon. Your layover at newark's near my
house. We met for dinner there...just one hour to spare - your
20's all mapped out. I'm in my driest drought feeling
old and shot and how.And this is what I thought: I seem to still
be caught...I'm a footnote at best...I envy who comes
next...wish we could just make out. 'The hour's almost
up', you said into your cup. And it makes no difference now,
as I help lift your bags out, that I'm lost and out of rope
while on my wrist you wrote your newest number down. I kind of
said your name but you'd turned to your plane so I backed
my car out. I knew we'd never write (somehow that seemed
all right) but this counts as calling three years out.
Send "13 Months In 6 Minutes" Ringtone to your Cell 
