reading #78

roses

roses

I will bring some classical music to the backyard. There are roses bold enough to cross the chain link where the grass meets the alleyway, and yes, I have seen them stop there, stumbling drunk down the alleys in the middle of the night, clothes torn, not knowin where they’re going. The aimless ones are beautiful to me. They have the courage to live today without any direction, the courage to go wherever the streets and alleyways take them. The roses are bold and red. Dark like blood. They cross the chain link and into danger. They are beautiful to me. The sun pulled them out and into themselves, the sun moved them, the aimless ones… the roses.

poison. the girls

might sound crazy but i was holdin on to a memory. of you and me. before all those things happened. ya.

might sound crazy but it was the first week we were together. we were in the old Impala with the flat tan finish. ya. we were gettin high.

you had a baseball cap on backwards like that tomboy from the bad news bears. the original. skinny acidwash jeans and long hair like axl rose circa 1987. Indiana.

i was all my tore up old self. like usual. a taller and possibly skinnier you. bad hair day. like always. no bra. ya. walgreens wool cap spinning around my middle finger.

there we were clear as day in my mind just now. scratchin’ bingo with my switchblade. gettin’ high. wow. must have been twenty ten. just look at us then.

i know it sounds crazy but even with the madness what with the sadness that followed and haunted us so…

god i must be crazy but i long to be back there again with you now. the way the love full of light filled our eyes. the way that you touched me and gave me the chills.

the weight of the eighty impala beneath us. reading our poems aloud and again. feeling the fortune of finding a friend.

oh why?
oh why
    did it all
have to
end?

katya mills © 2014
this is dedicated to k&k