if i ran

I wake up on a bus,
for just a moment, blessed confusion,
then i remember.

i am running again,
always on the move,
trying to stay a step ahead,
of these things i said i wouldnt do.

its two a.m. in November,
and i am all alone.

i used to say i was the best quitter i ever met,
but in this still, soft, quiet hour.
i realize i was wrong,
because i still remember every time i said
"I love you"
even to myself,
and i still do.

its two a.m. in November,
and i am headed home.

its already winter this far north,
already cold.
and i'll call you every once in a while,
till you tell me not to.
and i'll go and see my old friends,
and wonder what we ever had in common,
and i'll drink with the old man,
and speak of things i shouldnt,
and i'll miss you,
and i miss you,
i miss you,
i already do.

its two a.m. in November,
and i have nowhere else to go.