All-nighters nothing
short of extraordinary told
our story in
joints hidden in
our backpacks as
we passed every
exit worth getting
off at.

Off the
beat, tan path,
we were children of
the city lights,
trying to escape
our store front

nineteen to
the world but
weathered in our minds.

Our song came
on the FM waves
as we blazed in
your backseat,
interlaced fingers dancing to
beats against
the bass of freight trains.

anagrams for love
into awkward tree trunks,

puns from
pretty girls
always won me over.

Although a
near decade’s past,
and radios are out
to attract an
alien generation;

it only
takes one song coming
on post-midnight to take
me back to

tracing our
names in
heightened states.


5 thoughts on “Nineteen

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