Chlorine smells on the first floor,
And kids getting drunk on the second.
Saturday's daughters rolled up and strung out on echoing laughter in
shadowy classrooms. Then those ankle bruises in the forest green hallway -
We were drinking gin in school when   I first forgot those days would end.
In catholic plaid we kissed the kindest boys, I swear to God!
We were sparkplug babies wearing sweaters, and dammnit,
We Were Kind.
Kazoo choruses, and days spent standing side by side in a mirror.
We were all tin foil newborns with
Aluminum vertebrae and electric fingertips.

Now this is my dormant reconciliation,
And you're my living ghost.