Google searching "Skinny Ties" takes one to mostly rockabilly, vintage websites selling various sizes, colors, designs... it can get overwhelming when you're looking for a specific person.
I searched and searched, not sure exactly what for, until I found it. A one-of-a-kind navy, textured skinny tie with a small, silver shooting star.
I remember you wore it beaming with pride, every time, that I bought it for you-- that not only did the color compliment your soft blue eyes, but the star symbolized me with you. (You were one who actually understood my love of stars). Plus, you looked hip wearing it.
We were so cool.
I'd like to think my presents to you haven't gone in vain. But I wouldn't know. I haven't seen you in over two years... but one of the last times I did was a couple months after I moved to Hoboken. We went to see Mission of Burma as part of Williamsburg's free Waterfront concerts, ate some vegan Asian food, you came visit me and my new apartment but slept on the couch, of course.
In the midst of packing the last three years of my life, gearing up to move to Brooklyn, I found that perfect skinny tie hanging on a side hook in my closet.
What was it doing here? Why did I have it? Did you leave it here by mistake? Did you realize it wasn't with you anymore? Would you still wear it?
I held that skinny tie in my hands and outlined the star with my finger. Despite being worlds away, I am not sure if I'll ever get used to this. Us not being us. Us not being friends. Not having someone understand why I really love stars.