I saw you for the first time a long, long time ago, and then again, and again, and always in my dream you danced on broken glass, and no unicorn would come to your rescue. You laughed at me, in a mean and a good way… Reality usually grips me slowly, just to throw me back into a loop of time, that I lost in a very loving way, and I laughed at myself a thousand times.
We have seen an obscure German student city, where we competed of who could hit the hardest on our German teacher… We got her stinky Cheese from Paris, chocolates from Sweden and the best of it all stories in broken German about how retarded we spent our days drinking a striking amount of bad Rehn wine and Weiss bier… the more we talked the less she would teach and in the end I think she was really confused when we didn’t talk. And then we started over again and there is something to be said about that.
We have seen Barcelona, the beach of Spain, I had you fall asleep on the beach there after Sangria, next to me, I had to laugh, you were red as a freaking lobster, and needed Aloe Vera. We met friends of my dad, and they got us drunker, as if they or us shouldn’t know better. We missed our dinner reservation, and some waiter was probably cussing in Spanish about dumb Americans (and you are not and I am not).
We have seen Berlin, we never chased trannies, that was just a dream we might have had in our romantic past, and it made us laugh and there are a whole lot of them. They offered me speed at the bar under the subway station and laughed when I danced the night away. We sat on a train to the airport and the German little Chef lost his shoe and the little gayboy laughed out of love. We ran into the dance floor of an outdoor bar and took photos in machine then I sat on the swing over the river that parts Berlin.
We have seen Paris, multiple times, we lost a friend in Notre Dame, we visited the gay bars that Lonely Planet recommended, and we recommended Lonely Planet to make better research. We never made it up the Eiffel tower but we did found a Ferris Wheel, carried a baguette under your arm and drank red wine, lots of it, until we got thrown out of a cab in the middle of nowhere because the driver didn’t like us kissing and then you took a shower with your clothes still on.
You live in NYC, and I don’t and when I go there you always laugh at me, I wake up with my pockets full of one-dollar bills, I make out with girls and you make more fun of me, you take me to places where I drink tequila, because we always forget it’s not what we do, but they don’t have Fernet. I always say we should stick to wine and my glasses get lost in yellow cabs and life just spin a little faster. You tell girls you are from oil-money and I make out in phone booths. And I swear forever that this is all your fault! Don’t let me drink Tequila!
I grew up in Stockholm, you didn’t, you made out with my best friend and I made soup and glared at you, took you shopping for new jeans and glared some more. It was cold and my jacket was way to big for you and you made me listen to music and you still do. Remember how it’s gay when you only have one set of headphones and we both listen out of them, arms and legs touching.
I tend to forget that one time, you made me cry so hard that I might have lightly stalked you, because you were my best friend and you ran away, my heart broke a tiny bit. But that was before, a long time before.
I still dream you might be dancing on broken glass, and so do I from time to time and that doesn’t matter because we fill our time with better times and even if it ones was what we did not want to do, it still gives me great pleasure to be your friend. I really don’t know what I would do without you. Who to call when I crazily fallen for a girl or who to call when I’m drunk and counting cars?