from a porch, for tomorrow

our converse conversations, starting within the end, didn’t end abruptly

words eased to a lull, i tightened my high tops and shot back across town where i knew the shaggy headed kids smoked cigarettes and threw pickles against coffee shop windows cheering cured cucumbers to the ash filled table below

sixteen and without fucks

i was always the nice guy

“more like a friend”

nine-passenger wagon rides to skank filled concert halls, white-reggae dancing

eye-lined boys, boundaries moved

lake-side-plume-filled-sweatshirt walks tasting dollar-fifty lip gloss, inhaling a “twenties” worth of virginities perspiration on the nape of her insecure neck

i was young once

engrossed in moments, enmeshed in the now, talking to you

going no where

inverse discussions

without end

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