cold sores and energy drinks
streets awash in sepia tones
voices tripped along the edge of
darkness
I led the group of us,
already drunk, joyful, stumbling--
across the half-lit parking lot
then, clear and strong, breaking
through the noise of the crowd
(the sound of my name and the feel of my small victory, here I am, victorious,
belonging)
dollhouse, brad, gooood, march 27, that night that our hearts left us