08

I miss climbing trees and climbing sculptures. Laying in the grass, smoking joints and singing in harmony. Coming home with stamps on our hands. Waking up with stamp-reflections on our faces. Him on my ukulele while I put on makeup in the kitchen. I drink red, you drink white. Thrashing under the hot lights, soaked in each others sweat. Our own language like we're sixteen. I miss stranger horses and pregnant pitbulls. Running up the hill as fast as we can. Dragons and worms spitting poison and I run screaming. Coloring books and broken glass in the crack den. Blowing pot smoke bubbles. Leaning on each other. I hate Jack Daniels. I miss feeling like I'm high for the first time, can't get my words out. Drenched in champagne and lawn bowling is very dangerous. I miss cap guns. Eating spinach pizza every week. Too hot for makeup. I miss being scolded. Vivaldi as the kittens climbed the curtains. Lost on an empty tank. Strawberry soymilk and I won't cry. Twisting in the living room. Tea.