i smell like garnier fructis and dark clouds, that bruiselike purple and blue
that says this day has been abused.
took a joy ride to a nostalgic dead end on Maria, remember
when we climbed the rails, crossed the creek talked in the sun
on mossy rocks?
our dark haired friends lived right there, we fashioned blow torches-
there was some basketball and a trampoline, homestar runner, ukulele
and guitars.