They played gravel pit while people packed into the courtyard.
It made me think of you.
I'm sorry I didn't take more pictures.
It's hard to tell who's lonely in the dark.
It's hard to hear the shouts of those standing next to me
over the sound of the bass guitar rattling my ear drums.
And that ******* *****
that kept shoving into me.
I wanted to shove my elbow into her gut
to settle her down.
"People don't understand, these songs demand movement," she slurred
with her tacky bozo-red hair.
My feet are in puddles of booz.
I breathe in secondhand air
that tastes of beer.
The fog is thick
and mixes with the smoke of a thousand spliffs.
I wanted a contact high.
I wanted the opening band to give it a rest
so the band I came here to see could play.
But mostly I wanted you there
holding my hips while I swayed to the music.
And on the way home
when I stuck my head out of the window of a moving car
in order to feel something.
Not alive.
But whole.
Goose bumps sprang up on my arms
as dew clung to the warmth of my flesh.
The chill felt so right after all the heat.
Gasping,
as air whipped up into my nostrils
and down into my eager lungs.
I wanted you there.
Over a plate of salty fries,
talking about everything and nothing.
My greatest fear is that I'll never cease missing you
because you'll always be far away.