not in the usual way with bent knee and bowed head but with nag champa and cd inserts, with deep reds, plastic costume jewelry beading and safety pinned rips. it was post cards and cigarette ash with Kroger's box dye in rusted orange. staining our fingernails. didn't matter. we painted them in neon green and chunky glitter. we stayed up late and wandered laughter like a shattered diamond breaking into a million stars and thrown out over such a welcoming ivory towered night sky. and itallian food households with those noodles in jars. looking up. it was Billy Corgan telling us he'd sing along. it was memories that aren't even mine. cut in my eyes. it was blunt bobs and pixie haircuts.Β Β it was cut necklines and walking on air. giant chain necklaces and whispered chap-lipped secrets. endless folds and bottomless love in a deliciously musty floral hat box. you're just low end in loving apathy. and i'm absent in my own life. it was an interruption so unspeakably painful. doesn't seem so hard to revisit. but i can't.