We smoked cigarettes in our secret places,
drunk wine in the vineyard outside of your home,
from disposable cups of florescent colors,
thinking ourselves too old for our skins.
We watched black and white movies on Sundays,
considering ourselves akin to some timeless romance,
but we were roadrunner and whylie coyote,
always running in fear of falling to hard.
We found common ground in clumsiness,
slipping up on words we meant like 'I love you',
grinning to wide for our situation,
thinking too highly of ourselves and our smiles.
We spent summer's inside of brick houses,
afraid of the sun and what it might reveal,
thick, dusty beams of light showed glimpes of you,
a nose pinnocio would have been envious of.
[ more coming ]
Tags: