There are places I remember that the latest incarnation of my car has never met

We take shortcuts to nowhere in particular, the scenic route to waste time

An apartment building feels like a hotel at which we once stayed

Shops in the village so much like that village we went to

Warm places for a drink, the previous incarnation of the car parked out front

A fence mailboxes like another fence, another mailbox, behind which lived a girl who was reminiscent of another girl, neither of whom I knew

It’s this mushy gray October sky
It always slices me up so