Welcome mats and living rooms,
leaky sinks and cheap cigars,
Alabama heat and quiet rain --
all of these things remind me of you.
You've drowned me in reverie
and candy cane nostalgia,
made meaning out of nothing
and nothing out of everything
that ever mattered to me before you.
I live my life in pre- and post- terms:
pre-delusion, post-grandeur.
It is all you or not-you
(which is still you, if you think about it),
and I can't escape it
and I don't want to
because you are all I have,
even if you are not mine at all.
