because young men are never good to their bodies.

i can see where we stood,
slanted tin sheets on the second story,
commercial street lit up with excitement
brought about only by the prospect
of another friday night.
the moon wasn't out then,
but if you laid back just right,
the metal and the cold and the stars
made it better than the moon,
and that's what i would call it
if anyone ever asked.

(now) i can see where we stand,
like marble giants skipping disci,
or stones by the lakeside,
where august on the shore
can't throw enough
to change the season,
and as much as i'd like to blame the kid,
it's not his fault summer isn't here yet.

and there's some weird comfort
in being around you;
maybe it's the crazy talking,
or whatever was in that bottle,
or maybe it's because you smoke
the same cigarettes as i do,
or because you ditch money
faster than the interest rates.

*******, it's empathy.

you've been sad like i've been sad,
and that's what it boils down to.