cold sores and energy drinks streets awash in sepia tones voices tripped along the edge of darkness I led the group of us, already drunk, joyful, stumbling-- across the half-lit parking lot
then, clear and strong, breaking through the noise of the crowd
(the sound of my name and the feel of my small victory, here I am, victorious, belonging)
dollhouse, brad, gooood, march 27, that night that our hearts left us