Eating my meal at the usual fast food spot,
Public intimacy at the counter,
That love bird love,
Seeing person after person walk in,
So many memories in this very seat,
From back then,
Some moved on, some still in touch,
Those days when adrenalin was frequent,
The blood, my heart, would rush,
I still remember sitting on that hill,
In isolation staring out,
Into the stars and clouds,
Wondering what life's about,
This poem, written on a fast food napkin,
Concentration clouded,
By the noise of laughter and a screaming kid tantrum
The skate home that night,
My jacket shielded the cold from my neck,
It was 1 o'clock, no people, no cars in sight,
Except,
That one police car flying by,
Colors of blue and red,
With it sirens ringing,
Past my head.
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 1:05 AM UTC
Eating my meal at the usual fast food spot,
Public intimacy at the counter,
That love bird love,
Seeing person after person walk in,
So many memories in this very seat,
From back then,
Some moved on, some still in touch,
Those days when adrenalin was frequent,
The blood, my heart, would rush,
I still remember sitting on that hill,
In isolation staring out,
Into the stars and clouds,
Wondering what life's about,
This poem, written on a fast food napkin,
Concentration clouded,
By the noise of laughter and a screaming kid tantrum
The skate home that night,
My jacket shielded the cold from my neck,
It was 1 o'clock, no people, no cars in sight,
Except,
That one police car flying by,
Colors of blue and red,
With it sirens ringing,
Past my head.
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