Thursday, February 24, 2011

June rides her bike in circles at night. An awkard yellow sculpture, bigger than a car, sits on the flat of cement. June circles around a bench where a woman sits, talking to a man. The man is only coughing. When she circles around the next time, the man is sneezing. The woman is still talking.
June bikes over to a picnic table and takes out a joint. Lights it. Sees fireflies.
"I can't remember what makes me feel like myself anymore."
She holds the smoke in her lungs, then lets it out hard.
Lives are beautiful-and satisfying itches.
Seeing people laughing.
People's bodies.
Listening to music with a boy.
How can we forget about these things?
Lights at night dispersed with tears.
Touching self, or another...smelling your arm.
Pulling paint chips off a fence or wall.

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