Revisionist History

We used to hold hands – and we’d kiss at the crosswalks. We used to get lost from the world in the cornstalks that grow on the cow farm two small yards away. We used to drink liquor from plastic by day and then we’d get too drunk to drive ourselves home. But it was still always better than being alone.

We got kicked out of parks hours after dark by policemen who wanted to search both our cars and find paraphernalia, aromatic herbs, stoners to set down on dry concrete curbs but instead we fled creekward, covered by night, praying our legs would have just enough might to arrive at the willow, collapse on the grass, feel the chilly wet dew and you on my lap.

I got kicked out after you headed south and said I never had the sole claim to your mouth and I cried like a boy and listened to our songs and drank alone often and tried to get along but I don’t think I ever quite settled back down with the thought of some fuck-up with his arm draped around the shoulders I used to squeeze to my chest. I liked you best – I liked you best.

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~ by perfectionatrix on October 10, 2010.

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