This to every single one but the one freshman year who carved “Elle” and a heart in the real tambourine he gave me – he played guitar while I sang and played tambourine for our friends, circa Mazzy Star and Cowboy Junkies, after keg parties were over and beer was on the kitchen floor and we didn’t give a fuck because we were young and righteous.
I saw you outside
Banks
Wearing my shirt that I gave you to remember me by
I don’t expect too much
But I hate too much
And I hate the way I miss you sometimes
Something about the way it’s like you’re running me over and over
Something about the way I miss you kissing me over and over
But you’ve been messing me around ’til now
And I let you push me around ’til now
Had me in your clutch
And my dress and such
And my head, and my heart and my eyes
And the hours don’t add up
Had your gaslight on
Then you promised I’m the one who’s crazy
There’s something about the way
it’s like you’re running me over and over
Something about the way I miss you kissing me over and over
And you put your words in my mouth ’til now
And I let you turn me around ’til now
And you’ve been messing me around ’til now
And I let you push me around ’til now, ha
Looking for Layla: an autobiographical account by Elle B. Hunter, dedicated to Jeff Littner and his “cheerleaders with black and gold hearts”. 