but she'll crack a joke and it'll fry in the pan
yoke running suntans like we're not burnt
plan like we weren't drowning in tick marks
learnt that those sparks don't set us alight
snarks sizzle and kite our cheap cameras up
fight or flight, ****-ups stroll us over to both
makeup's made of oaths and expired lippies

and

growth was just memories we'd left behind
cities were left unsigned and roosters hum
spellbinds bit off crumbs of our holidays
sums done sideways with scrambled minds
haze of upturned blinds flip us sunny-side
rinds of orange chide us but our hats are gone
stride down, we egg on, sandals beg mercy

but

crayons colour sprees in glasses-off views
degrees weren't those corkscrew rollercoasters
drive-thru karaoke, poster bed fairy lights dim
toasters retorted, skim reading as shoes kick dust
limbs stiff, favour a cuss but don't do big talk
buses see less than walks, distance is a job
toolbox couldn't fix this throb.

so

maybe if we hadn't lit the fuse twice
it might not have fireworked so quick
but i'm glad we rolled that dice
getting summered was a cement
to those heat-blown bricks.

She always wanted to be
as famous as
Shakespeare.
Bawling dramatically in the cornfield.
My flip flops stuck
in the oozy mud
as I followed her for safety.

She sobbed on my shoulder during Titanic because she wasn't as beautiful
as Kate Winslet.
The rest of the cinema
gave me funny looks.
Soggy shoulder,
everyone necks craning to listen
to my therapy phrases.
"Sshhh. It's okay.
You're beautiful in a different way".

I never told her that lipstick didn't suit her.
And she still wears it now
on Facebook.