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im thinking of finding a car thief tonight
because im wondering if he knew you

surely he didnt randomly think, yeah this house
he must have known you
and im desperate to know you
you held me when i was born but
i know nothing
i have your ashes, your notebooks, cassette tapes you recorded, a fucking book you wrote, a
chessboard you stowed in your truck,

but i have nothing, know nothing
so i just sent a message to a goddamn cop about a car thief because i wonder…
did he know you? did he think, thats a man who hides his money in his house under pots of
keys and cookies sheets of acorns and mildewed stuffed animals and i dont care about
whatever money or titles he found i wonder what he knows about you that i dont i wonder if i will
sleep again when i understand who the hell you were and why you wouldnt talk to your girlfriend
or your sweet youngest daughter on the phone when you were dying in the hospital and why
you stayed married to someone you hadnt seen in 20 years and whether your funeral directions
were a recrimination of my mother (she says fuck off by the way) and whether i am doomed

anyway

i eat off your plates now
i know that you kept the mug i made you but i also cant help but notice that you kept everything
you linger in my doorways sometimes but you never speak
so im tracking down a car thief to see if he knew you