You were the crackle of desiccated leaves thrown onto the fire.
You were the first clove cigarette snuck behind the middle school gymnasium.
The cloying, choking mystery of adolescent rejection.
You were the jaded confidence man trapped in the body of a pip-squeak.
And I worshipped you.
The t-shirt with a sly reference to a show cancelled a decade ago and revered by those in the know.
The cardigan with elbow patches, minus two buttons.
Cargo pants for exponential empty pockets and collected relics.
No original thought but each sentence compiled of movie quotes and lyrics smashed and mashed in new array to dazzle, disarm, and dismay.
Me in rollerskated, chunky-banged hyperbole praised you to the skies and never saw your lies as lies because the lyrebird sang so convincingly that I blamed me.
1 comment:
That was some memoery
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