Kids

Summer makes my head do somersaults, memories like malt liquor on my tongue. Wishing you could be young forever only serves to make you old at increased rates,

and you wake so
many eons later,
names carved into
disfigured trees fainter than
you remember,

friends moved on,
mentors long gone but all
the world’s wrongs still trucking,
always looking looking for something
in the water
sharp enough to sink you.

But I look at them,
ghosts of my heavensent
companions now, and while they

have shuffled out in
single file

(I know it took me a
while to
adjust)

we wrote the book on
once upon
a time, half
ounces and stolen wine
and if this bottle don’t last me until

the day I
lay it down,

the wisdom from wars we
inscribed on school
yard willows
amount.

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5 thoughts on “Kids

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