Curse words.
You screamed curse words on my eighth birthday
and there was a mess in the backyard
with bubble sap
and candy wishes.
Tiny sobs.
I watched you leave,
beautiful footsteps
with your cocktail shoes and leather pants.
You're crazy, fine friend.
Sing me your story
and kiss me in public.
Hope.
I was hopeful.
You can pay for groceries
with your words.
Watch them shout.
Scream.
You're acid
and I'm poison.
We hit knuckles and crack flesh
like a matchbox.
You're funny.