States

It’s fun to hang out on Rantoul Street in the spring
on Wednesdays.
We spent our nights
waiting around a parking lot
sitting on Exit 5,
where time moved slowly.
And I hope we are still close.
Never having time to get away.
All week long I’ve been trying to say
Although far away, we’re still friends
just at different ends
and in different places.
I’d be lying if I said
I never once felt that pang of regret.
Nostalgia is burning a hole in my head.
And I hope we are still close.
Never having time to get away.
All week long I’ve been trying to say,
«I hope we are still close.»
I’m stuck between states choosing oxygen or friends.
Or both with a little effort.
So just meet me halfway.