“You were my first cigarette”
Moonpaint sidewalk.
Cracked earth.
Long view.
“I don’t want to be scared”
Letting the wind press
your jacket
to your shirt
to your neck
to your head.
Thick streaks thinning.
A glassblowers handle.
“And I don’t know how to explain it but I know we gonna be just fine”
Freeze-prickle skin with each watch.
Lyrics like a conversation of truth and turns.
Thank you Mal Devisa.
We needed this.