we were drunk on ignorance
underneath our own little
section of sky

"no one  else will see
this very cloud from
this very angle ever!"

we were stuck in the corner
of the junk drawer
like a button in a bottle
or a spent shell
from a memorial day's cry

vanilla and cinnamon
caressed the flannel wallpaper
as a wagon wheel
lit the room

i kicked the wall
and hid in the bathroom
until i drowned
in a puddle of my youth

now i wonder
about the things
left beneath the
back porch

and if the grass
still grows thicker
above the dried well